When the Walls Come Crashing Down
by Bright4286
Summary: After Sam left for Stanford, everything went back to normal. Or did it? Dean shows up at Sam's dorm in the middle of the night, badly beaten, from a supposed hunt gone wrong. But what Sam doesn't know is that John had a very violent reaction to his disappearance and Dean paid the price. Dean-centric. Major hurt!Dean
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys! I know that I should be working on my other stories, but this idea grabbed me and just wouldn't let go! This is my first Supernatural fic so I hope you like it._

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination_

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Chapter one

Inside a dingy motel room in the middle of nowhere, the Winchester brothers lie asleep in their beds. Or at least one of them does. The dark room is filled with Dean's quiet snores, the twenty-one year old finally having gotten the chance to rest after helping their father prepare for the next hunt. Sam on the other hand is wide awake, hastily shoving clothes and what few personal items he has into a duffel bag trying desperately not to wake his big brother. He wishes he didn't have to leave Dean on such short notice, or rather without any notice at all, but he knows this is the only way he can get away. Away from their dad, from hunting, from everything. So he walks to the door with his duffel in hand and offers his companion an apologetic look before turning and opening the door. He takes a few steps out into the night and turns back one last time.

"Goodbye Dean." He closes the entrance softly, immediately setting out for the bus station. He walks with a purpose with his head tucked low and his spirit Stanford bound.

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Dean's POV

I groan loudly as I roll over in the stiff, uncomfortable sheets that sit on top of the lumpy mattress that I'm sleeping on and I try to figure out what woke me up. One minute I'm dreaming about a very good looking waitress I met at a diner in Tulsa a few weeks back and the next I'm wide awake. Tiredly I push myself into a sitting position and run a hand through my hair, the unruly blonde spikes parting in random ways. Slowly I open my eyes and scan the room, which looks even nastier than when we checked in the night before; I guess you really can't tell much about a place when it's pitch black outside. My eyes land on the bed next to mine and it takes me a minute to realize that it's empty. I cocky my head to the side and turn towards the bathroom door, trying to see if Sam just decided to get an early start. I shake my head in confusion when my gaze lands on the open door, revealing the unoccupied room beyond.

"Sam?" I don't hear a response and my heart jumps a little in my chest. "Sam where are you?" When again I don't get a reply I launch myself out of bed and onto my feet, instinctively heading towards the door. I fling it open and look out into the parking lot. The impala's still missing so dad hasn't gotten back yet, he'd left last night to hunt down a Raw Head that had been causing trouble in a local town. "Sam?!" My heart rate is starting to pick up and I jog out onto the asphalt, looking for any sign of my brother. "Sam this isn't funny!" I see an elderly woman about twenty feet from me and I run over, hoping she'd seen Sam. "Excuse me ma'am. Have you seen a young guy, 6'1, brown hair, brown eyes? His name's Sam?" She gives me a disgusted look and turns around, walking back the way she'd came. "Ma'am please!" She throws a glance over her shoulder.

"Come back when you're fully clothed!" I think she says something along the lines of "stupid drunk" afterwards, but I'm too busy studying my own appearance to pay much attention. I'm standing in the middle of a sleazy motel parking lot, barefoot, dressed in nothing but my boxers, with my hair standing on end. I let out a yelp and sprint back to my room, trying to ignore the many strange looks I get from other residents on the way. The second I'm back inside I grab my cell phone and dial Sam's number. My heart sinks as it rings and rings and rings until finally it goes to voicemail. I wait until I hear the beep and just about scream into the phone.

"Sam where are you?! You can't just up and leave like that! Call me back as soon as you get this or I swear I'm gonna beat your ass." I hang up and let out an exasperated sigh letting the cell drop down onto the bed as I do so. Without hesitation I head over to my duffle and pull out a black t-shirt and jeans, jerking them on in a haste. My mind is running a mile a minute as I put on my socks and shoes, thinking over every second of the last time I saw Sam.

 _I open the cheap wooden door that leads to our room and do an immediate scan for threats. When I find none I motion for Sam to come in, throwing my bag onto the bed closest to the entrance as I do so. My brother walks in and does the same at the other end of the room where the other full size mattress lays. I wipe a hand over my tired face and turn to him._

 _"I think I'm gonna turn in man." He shakes his head at me and offers me a questioning look._

 _"Come on Dean, you don't wanna go out and play some pool at that bar down the street? I'm sure they've got at least one hot bartender in there." I shake my head._

 _"Nah. I'm beat." Sam pouts._

 _"We actually have some time to enjoy ourselves without dad hovering over our shoulders and you're too tired? That's by far the lamest excuse I've ever heard. You know you wanna go, Dean." I let out a sigh._

 _"I've been stuck in a car for ten hours straight everyday for the past three days with nothing to listen to but you and dad arguing. So yes, I'm freakin' exhausted. I'm going to bed."_

 _"But Dean.." Sam starts to protest but I cut him off._

 _"Sam, I swear, you try and use the puppy dog eyes and I'm gonna shoot you." He rolls his eyes and I turn my back to him, pulling off my shirt as I do so. I consider taking a shower but in the end I decide to that the twenty foot walk from my current position to the bathroom isn't worth the waste of energy. I plop face down on the bed, the mattress creaking under my weight, and close my eyes thankful for the rare chance to sleep._

My mind returns to the present as I shrug on my leather jacket and tuck my 1911 into the waistband of my jeans. I head for the door and walk back out into the parking lot, pocketing my room key as I do so. My first instinct is to check out the bar that Sam was talking about, thinking that maybe he snuck out during the night. Without the impala I'll have to walk about a mile to reach the bar, which won't be much of a problem aside from the fact I'll be silently cursing Sam the whole way for making me have to track him down.

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The walk to the bar takes around ten minutes and soon I'm standing just outside the building. I open the door and am immediately assaulted by the familiar smell of beer and cigarette smoke. My eyes wander around the room until they land on a man standing behind the bar wiping it down with a rag. I make my way over to him and nod in greeting.

"What'll it be?" His voice is tired and gravelly, like a man who's been working here way too long.

"Actually." I say as I pull out a picture of my brother from my wallet. "I was wondering if you'd seen this man?" The man gives me a skeptical look and I shrug. "He's my brother. He met a girl last night and said something about coming here. He hasn't shown back up and I'm just trying to make sure he isn't passed out drunk in a ditch somewhere." The man turns to me and glances at the photo. He shakes his head.

"Haven't seen him."

"Are you sure? I mean I'm sure there's gotta be something you can tell me to help me find him." He rolls his eyes and let's out an agitated sigh.

"Look I told you I haven't seen him, so get lost." I put my hands up in surrender and exit the bar, trying to quell the urge to punch him in the mouth. The next place I decide to check is a food joint right down the street from the hotel but I come up empty there too. I try and call Sam again, but it just keeps going to voicemail. I'm starting to get a little freaked out.

"Damn it Sam! Pick up the phone." I say as I slam the device shut and run a hand down my face. I'm started to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and it takes everything I have not to call dad for help. If Sam does turn out to be taking some time for himself, I'd hate to have dad think that I flipped out and couldn't handle it. With a groan I exit the store and head down the street searching for any sign of the boy.

Four hours later I plop down on the hard motel bed and put my head in my hands. I've checked everywhere in town: gift shops, tourist attractions, some kind of magic store, even the library! And I'm still coming up empty. I dial Sam's number for seems like the hundredth time that day and am not surprised when it goes to voicemail.

"Sam it's me again. Where are you? I'm getting really worried man. Call me back." I toss the phone onto the bed beside me and fall back into the uncomfortable mattress, trying to think of any possible explanation for my brother's absence. When my mind can't think of a single scenario I shake my head in frustration. "Come on Sam. Where did you go?"

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 _Well that's it for chapter one! I hope yall loved it. I k ow this chapter was a little slow, but I promise it picks up in the next one. Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcome and appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys! I'm really happy with how this came out and I hope you enjoy it! heres chapter 2!_

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Chapter Two

I wake up to a buzzing sound and I sit up in bed, confused. When did I fall asleep? Suddenly I realize the buzzing sound is my phone and I snatch it off the nightstand. Relief floods my system as I read the caller ID and put the device up to my ear.

"Sammy?" I can hear my brother's annoyed sigh on the other end at the mention of the nickname and I grin slightly.

"Yeah Dean, it's me." Anger suddenly fills me as I remember the events of the past twenty-four hours.

"Sammy where the hell are you?! I've been looking all over for you!"

"Stanford." Comes the one word reply. My breath catches in my throat and I shake my head.

"You're at a college? Sam you can't just disappear like that! I thought you were dead!"

"I'm sorry but I had to get away." My brow furrows in confusion.

"Get away from what?"

"From dad." My hands clench into fists and I try to calm myself down.

"You left in the middle of the night, without any indication of where you were going or that you were still alive, to go to a college that's miles away just to get away from dad? That's ridiculous man. Come back and we'll figure everything out ok? I'll even come pick you up alright." Sam's voice erupts over the line.

"No Dean, I'm staying. Don't tell Dad where I am." I'm about to protest but he hangs up, leaving me alone to my thoughts once more. I haul myself up into a sitting position and shake my head. Stanford. The idiot ran off to freakin' Stanford. He left me alone in a motel in the middle of nowhere just so he could get away from...dad. Realization hits me and my heart skips a beat. Dad's gonna KILL me! I'm supposed to be keeping an eye on Sam and he ran away! How am I gonna explain that to him? I jump to my feet and start pacing back and forth in the small room, trying to think of some kind of solution. There's no way that I can convince Sam to come back, especially when he knows how pissed Dad's gonna be, and I can't hide the fact that Sam left from him for long. I rub a hand down my face and sigh in frustration. What am I gonna do?!

I could call Bobby, see if he has any ideas as to what I should do, the older man always seems to have a solution. In a blink I dial the man's number and wait, pretty impatiently, as it rings. After what seems like hours Bobby picks up, his gruff voice echoing over the other end.

"Dean?"

"Bobby?! I need your help." The urgency in my tone has him on edge immediately.

"What have you gotten yourself into boy?"

"It's Sam."

"What happened? Is he ok?" I let out a breath and nod, forgetting for a moment that he can't see me.

"He's fine, until I get my hands on him. I swear I'm gonna wring his neck."

"What did he do now?" I can hear Bobby's exasperation over the phone and I scoff.

"He went to Stanford."

"He what?!"

"Yeah. He ran off two nights ago saying that he needed to get away from dad. Now he's saying that he won't come back." There's a long pause and I'm starting to get a little nervous. "Bobby what am I supposed to tell Dad?"

"The truth, Dean." My eyes widen and I shake my head.

"Are you nuts? He's gonna lose his mind!"

"And what do you think is gonna happen if you lie to him, huh? He's just gonna forget that Sam exists and just go about his merry way? Dean, you know you have to tell him. He's gonna find out eventually anyway, might as well get it over with." I groan loudly and fall back down on the bed shaking my head in defeat.

"You're right. Thanks Bobby."

"Any time kid." A sigh escapes me and I throw a hand over my eyes in annoyance.

"I need a drink." Without another thought I stand to my feet and head out the door intending to drown my sorrows in some nice El Sol.

* * *

The bar wasn't anything spectacular, just a couple of tables and booths filled with people who'd had enough of their boring, perfectly normal lives. I'd had a few drinks, not enough to be knock down drunk, but I'm still a little unsteady as I make my way to the motel room door. My hands fumble with the key in my pocket and it takes me a few tries to jam it into the lock, but eventually I get it open. With a sigh I push open the door and take a few steps into the mostly empty space. I'm about to grab some clothes and head to the shower, when I see the nearly empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table. The same bottle that had been unopened when I left earlier. I'm instantly on high alert and I pull my 1911 out of my waistband and hold it up with steady hands. Without sparing a glance at the door I kick it closed softly and quickly sweep the room looking for any signs of trouble. I hear a noise coming from the bathroom and I spin towards it, gun held at the ready. My heart rate picks up when I see the knob start to turn and my grip around my weapon tightens. The door opens and a very familiar man steps into the light, clothes covered in dirt and grime. He sees my current position and holds his hands up in surrender.

"S'Good to see ya too." His words are slightly slurred and I can tell he's borderline drunk. I lower my gun and shake my head in confusion.

"Dad? I thought you were coming back until tomorrow." He shrugs dramatically and stumbles over to the table where his drink is sitting. His hand closes around the neck and he lifts the bottle to his lips, downing it in two swallows.

"Things went better than I thought. Didn't even have to stalk the damn thing. Kinda jus' ran into it. Blew it to bits." He holds to the whiskey high in the air, swinging it around to the rhythm of his words. A tired sigh escapes me and I take in my dad's current condition.

It's pretty normal for him to start drinking when he gets back from a hunt, trying to get rid of the bad memories I guess. I haven't seen him like this before though, it's usually only a few glasses not the whole bottle. He points a finger at me.

"I've got a question for you boy. Where's Sam?" I try to quell the panic that starts to swell inside me at the mention of my missing brother and I shrug.

"He just went out to get a few things. He'll be back soon." My dad cocks his head to the side and takes a step forwards, any evidence of the previous stumble gone.

"He took his duffel bag with him?" Dang, I was hoping he hadn't noticed that. I nod.

"Yeah. He figured it'd be easier to carry everything if he brought it." John squints at me.

"So he brought his duffel bag full of clothes, his laptop, and everything else he owned with him to 'go and grab a few things'?" I wince and nod again, knowing that I'm in for it. John narrows his eyes and takes another step forward. "What aren't you telling me, Dean?" I shake my head, trying to come up with some excuse for Sam's absence.

"Nothing! Sam just went out for..." John cuts me off.

"Quit lying to me boy! Where is your brother?!" All of his drunken stupor disappears as his anger makes itself known and I flinch at his tone. I swallow thickly against the lump in my throat and take a deep breath.

"He.. he left." Fury lights up his eyes and I have to fight the urge to back away.

"He left? Where did he go?" I grit my teeth and try to avoid his gaze.

"I can't tell you." He grabs me by the shirt roughly and pulls me towards him menacingly.

"You can't tell me? My own son runs away and you can't tell me where he is?!" I try to back up, hoping that his grip on me will loosen. It doesn't.

"No. I promised." In a flash I'm pinned up against the wall, the cheap wood digging splinters into my back and neck.

"You promised?! Well you know what else you promised, huh Dean? You promised that you'd always be loyal to this family! Now tell me where he is!" My heart is hammering against my chest and I try to stay calm.

"I can't." Rage is coming off of him in waves and I know what's coming.

My head smashes against the wall as my dad's fists connects with my jaw, sending stars dancing across my vision. The next hit lands on my ribs and I would've doubled over if I wasn't be held up.

"You selfish son of a bitch! You have no right to keep my son away from me!" Another punch hits my stomach and the wind is knocked out of me. I try to catch my breath as I'm thrown across the room. My back screams in pain as it connects with the table and I bite back a yell. The thin material splinters into a thousand pieces, sending shards of wood flying everywhere as the table collapses underneath me. One of the boards jabs into my side, causing a large gnash to appear near my hip. I prop myself up on my elbow and try to back away, but he's already advancing towards me. My father grabs me by the hair and hits me hard across the jaw and I fall back onto the ground. He kneels down and straddles my waist and I squirm under his weight but I can't get free. Another punch connects with my nose and I can feel blood leaking down to my chin. I throw my arms up and try to block the assault but he simply grabs me again and slams my head down on the floor. One, two, three times my skull hits the floor and my vision is starting to go black around the edges.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time you coward! Where is Sam?!" John's screams echo in my ear and I grit my teeth. My silence seems to fuel his anger and he sends a fists flying towards my already abused ribs. I gasp in pain and somehow manage to throw him off of me. My body screams in protest as I try to scramble away from my attacker. A boot comes crashing down on my leg with such force that I'm surprised the bone doesn't snap and I bite back a holler. Another kick hits my stomach and I curl in on myself, accidentally running right into the foot that's flying towards my face. It's hits my chin and sends me rolling over with the sheer force of the blow. For a moment I just lay on my stomach, trying desperately to push the pain away. A booted foot lands hard on my back and I grunt.

"You're nothing but a worthless piece of trash! You don't deserve to be called my son!" I turn to look up at my dad, Fury marring his features. My eyes widen when I see something shining in his hand. The whiskey bottle is clutched tightly in his palm, it had broken when I'd fallen on the table so the once smooth surface is jagged.

"Dad stop! Please!" The man walks towards me slowly and I back away. There's a glint in his eye as he slashes at the air, barely missing my tender flesh. I'm able to dodge the first couple of strikes but my mind is clouded by pain and he manages to cut my right bicep. Agony flares in my arm and I glance down, nearly gasping when I see that it goes all the way to the bone. John grabs the area, digging his finger into the gushing wound.

"Gah!" I try to push him away but his grip just tightens. He leans in close next to my ear.

"What have I told you since the beginning?" My breath comes in short gasps and I clench my jaw, remaining silent. "Tell me, Dean, what's you most important job?" He digs his thumb farther into my wound and I suck in a breath.

"Watch out for Sam." I rasp. My father cocks his head.

"Speak up boy!"

"Watch out for Sam." My voice lacks its usually strength and I hate how weak it sounds. "Exactly. And you left him run off" My hands clench into fists. "He ran off on your watch. This is your fault dean! You failed!" He throws me down again and sends another kick my way. My hand lands on something solid and I glance up to see what it is. A piece of wood from the table that's about two feet long lies curled in my hand. Relief floods me with the thought of a weapon and I wait until Dad is leaning down towards me again. Once I'm sure he's close enough I swing the board in a big arc, screaming in pain as I suddenly become very aware of all my injuries. The wood hits him right across the face and he falls backward, howling in pain. I take the opportunity to jump to my feet and sprint to the door, unsure where my sudden strength came from. I basically fall out of the door and stumble out into the night. I'm already in the parking lot when john comes outside.

"And don't you ever come back!" He screams at me. I cough and am not surprised when flecks of blood dribble down my chin. My body protests loudly as I stumble along trying to find a place to go. Then it hits me. Where can I go? Dad obviously isn't an option, Bobby's too far away, which leaves only one person. A sigh escapes me as I think about what Sam'll say when I show up on his doorstep covered in blood. No time to worry about that though. My foot catches on a dip in the pavement and I go tumbling down. It takes everything in me not to scream out as my abused body connects with the ground. Fire ignites in every part of my body and I feel like every nerve is being ripped to shreds as I push myself up to a sitting position. My back rests against a car and I shake my head. How am I gonna walk all the way to Stanford in this shape? I can't exactly just take the Impala, there's no way I'd get past dad. As I sit there thinking about my options, something glinting on the ground catches my eyes.

Carefully I scoot over and joy fills me. Car keys. There freakin' car keys! For one time in my life the Winchester luck has taken a day off. I reach out a grab the keys, pressing the button as I do so trying to figure out what they belong to. A honk sounds off to my left and finally I spot its source; a silver Buick. Not exactly my style but I'll take what I can get. The adrenaline rush is starting to wear off and I barely make it to the door before my knees buckle. I would've hit the ground if I hadn't managed to grab ahold of one of the mirrors to keep myself upright. Using what little strength I have left I open the door and pretty much fall into the seat. My hands shake as I jam the keys I to the ignition and the car starts with a groan. Relief floods me as I press the gas pedal and take off out of the parking lot in the direction of my brother, leaving Dad behind.

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 _Well that's it for chapter two! I hope you loved it! thank you to everyone who's taking the time to read this. Reviews are welcome and appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys! So I feel really good about this chapter and I enjoyed writing it, I hope you also enjoy reading it. So how is Sam gonna react to Dean showing up on his doorstep unannounced? Guess you'll just have to read and find out._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Chapter Three

I don't remember the drive to Stanford, but suddenly I'm sitting in the parking lot with blood dripping onto the once clean seats of someone's Buick. My head pounds from the beating it took less than an hour ago and every inch of my body aches from the strain it went through to get to where I am now. For a moment I sit in the car, just trying to keep my tired eyes open, when I remember why I came. With much effort I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and sluggishly punch in the number with bloody, shaking hands. It rings for a while and I'm scared that he won't pick up but, much to my relief, he does. My brother's voice comes over the line, already launching into some lecture about my late night or should I say very early morning phone call.

"Dean, I already told you..." Not able to wait any longer, I interrupt him.

"Sam?" My voice comes out in a pained rasp and I wince at how vulnerable I sound, wishing that I could put more strength into it.

"Dean are you ok?" The concern is evident in his tone and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Do I sound ok?

"I need help." I answer instead. I hear shuffling on the other end and the jingling of keys, he must be heading for the door.

"Ok, I'm coming. Where are you?" It takes me a moment to remember and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to think, blood loss is a bitch.

"Um.. Stanford parking lot." My memory finally returns to me and I let out a sigh.

"Ok I'll be there soon, hang in there. Just keep talking alright?"

"Sure... thing Sammy." I bite back a gasp as a wave of pain washes over me threatening to send me into bliss unconsciousness. There's talking in my ear and it takes me a moment to realize that Sam's trying to get my attention.

"Dean, you still there? Dean!" I wince at the volume and take a deep breath.

"Yeah I'm here. No need to shout." I'm getting really light headed and it takes all of my concentration to focus on what my brother's saying.

"Dean I'm in the parking lot, but I don't see you. Where are you at?" I forgot that he would've been looking for the Impala.

"I'm in a silver Buick, near the back." I honk the horn a couple times to help him out and soon I see his gigantic form coming around the corner.

"Ok I see you." He hangs up the phone and jogs over to the car, pulling open the door as soon as he arrives. A gasp escapes him as he sees the state I'm in and I offer him a lopsided grin.

"Hey Sammy. Miss me?" Sam reaches in and helps me out of the car.

"Dean what the hell happened to you?" My knees buckle as soon as I try to stand up and I would've landed face first on the pavement if Sam hadn't caught me.

"Got on a Wendigo's bad side. Turns out they don't appreciate it when you try and torch 'em." He puts one of my arms over his shoulders and I shout in pain, the movement sending spikes of pure agony jolting through my body. My brother throws me an apologetic look before curling his other arm around my waist so he's supporting most of my weight.

"Why didn't you just get help from Dad? No offense, but I'm pretty sure he would've been a better choice." I take a minute to regain control of my breathing before answering.

"He's still on that Raw Head...hunt, won't be back... until tomorrow." A cough escapes me and I try to suppress it but only succeed in making it worse, soon I'm doubled over hacking loudly. I taste copper and spit blood on the ground. Sam holds me steady.

"Easy, Dean, let's get you inside." Finally the coughing subsides, taking my remaining strength with it, and I sag against Sam's hold taking ragged breaths. We slowly trudge towards my brother's dorm with him half dragging, half carrying me down the hall. When we reach the door Sam leans me against the wall and goes to unlock it. The second he turns away my knees gives out and I collapse onto the floor clutching at my side trying to block out the pain. I groan and the man next to me spins around.

"Oh shit, Dean!" He gathers me in his arms and lifts me up off the floor before carrying my body through the door bridal style. I yell when his arms put pressure on my ribs and back, aggravating my already screaming muscles. "Shhh. It's ok, I got you." He sets me down gently on the bed, even that simply movement causes pain to flare up inside me. My breathing quickens and I grip the sheets tightly, squeezing my eyes shut as I do so. Sam walks over to the bathroom and emerges a few seconds later hold a first aid kit. He sits down in a chair next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Dean I need you to sit up so I can take care of your injuries. Do you think you can manage it on your own?" I'm about to give him some snide remark about not being completely invalid but the second I try to move agony consumes me and I have to clench my teeth to keep from screaming. Sam sees my discomfort and nods. "Guess that's a no." He stands and puts a hand behind my back before slowly pushing me up. I hiss at the movement and he pauses. "Sorry." I nod and he resumes his efforts. After a few more muttered curses and some very creative threats on Sam's life, I'm finally sitting up with my legs bent at the knees and hanging off the end of the bed. Once I catch my breath I look up at my brother and immediately notice the strange look on his face.

"What?" He offers me a sympathetic grimace.

"I have to take your jacket and shirt off to get to your wounds." I frown and shake my head.

"Of course you do." I take a deep breath a sit up a little straighter. After a moment I nod. "Ok let's get this over with." Sam reaches forward and grabs the collar of my jacket, getting ready to pull it off. The image reminds me of when Dad attacked me and my body starts trembling involuntarily. I take a few quick breaths and try to calm myself down. It's not Dad, it's Sam. It's not Dad. The man across from me gives me a questioning look.

"You ok?" I nod. "Ready?"

"Yeah." He gently pulls the fabric away from my body, pausing every time I gasp in pain, and soon the bloody jacket is lying discarded on the floor. Next he starts on my shirt. His fingers find the hem and he slowly starts to lift it up. When the fabric gets past my ribs, he gasps, apparently it looks pretty bad.

"Oh my god." He stares at the swollen, bloodied skin around my midsection and I squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Sam, can you please hurry up?" He snaps out of his stupor and nods.

"Right, sorry." He immediately returns to the task at hand and pulls it up to my torso, averting his gaze when he sees the damage there. My brother goes to lift the material higher but my arms are in the way. Reluctantly I go to raise them above my head. The second I go to lift them up, fire engulfs my ribs and I scream in pain.

"Gah!" My eyes water as Sam hastily pulls the shirt over my head and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Damn it." I choke back a sob and reach out to grab his flannel, gripping it tightly.

"Easy, easy Dean. Just breathe." I swallow against the bile that's threatening to rise up my throat and nod. After a moment I'm able to breathe without feeling like knives are grating against my bones. "You ok?" I nod and he lets go of me to reach for the first aid kit. Sam takes a wet rag that he'd brought from the bathroom and gently wipes at the blood that's still dripping from my wounds, ignoring the way my breath hitches every time he hits a particularly tender spot. When he's gotten everything as clean as he can, my brother reaches for the disinfectant and eyes me warily.

"I need to make sure those gnashes don't get infected." I nod and he quickly pours the liquid over the cuts on my bicep and hip. I hiss as the familiar burn of it spreads across my skin and Sam frowns. "They're gonna need stitches too."

"Just get it over with." He nods and quickly threads a needle before holding it up next to my arm. Without hesitation he sticks the metal through my skin, pulling the string along behind it. I clench my jaw and stare at the wall in an attempt to distract myself. Twenty-two stitches later and he moves on to my hip, I don't bother counting the next round. When he's finally done I turn to look at him. "Done?" He nods.

"Now I just have to wrap your ribs." I groan and he grabs the wrap from the kit. He starts to wind it around my midsection, causing me to wince every time he accidentally bumps into the abused bones.

Soon my ribs are covered in the white bandages and I run a hand over my face. My fingers come away stained red and I frown remembering the bloody nose I'd received earlier. I turn to Sam.

"I'm gonna go clean this up." I say motioning to my face. He gives me a questioning look.

"That can wait until tomorrow. Why don't you just get some rest?" I flash a smile at him.

"My good looks are all I've got, what happens if one of those hot frat girls sees me looking like this? No way man, I'm gonna get cleaned up." My brother rolls his eyes at me and shrugs.

"Ok. Go ahead, knock yourself out." I carefully stand to my feet and take a step towards the bathroom. As soon as I try to support my weight my knees give out and Sam once again has to catch me. I throw him a lopsided grin.

"I may need a little help though." He rolls his eyes and together we trudge over to the bathroom. I open the door and lean against the counter for support, confident that i can hold myself up. Sam lingers for a moment and I shoo him off. "I got it, I don't need you hovering over my shoulder. He turns to leave and I kick the door closed, breathing out a relieved sigh. My body sags against the counter and I look into the mirror hanging on the wall. My reflection makes me cringe. Dried blood has crusted under my nose and down my chin from where I took a couple hits and I've got a split lip. My right cheek is swollen and there's a gnash up by my temple that's still bleeding slightly, so basically I look like crap. I grab a washcloth from the cabinet next to me and put it in the sink, turning on the water as I do so. I watch as steam rises into the air and, once it's soaked, grab the washcloth. A content sigh escapes me as I press the warm fabric to my face, enjoying the soothing feeling that spreads over my wounds.

Carefully I wipe away the blood that covers my face and try and bring down some of the swelling. After I'm satisfied that I look a little better I look into the mirror again, my appearance has barely changed. Deciding that there's nothing more I can do for my face, my eyes roam down to my chest where several bruises are still visible. The skin is littered with deep purple and blue hues with the occasional cut or scrape breaking up the color. What worries me the most is the shape of the bruises. Dad hit me hard enough where there's a clear imprint of a fist nearly anywhere he touched me. There's finger shaped bruises on my arm where he grabbed me and when I turn around I see the first signs of tread marks from his boots starting to appear on my back.

Maybe they'll just look like splotches in the morning. Like I've ever been that lucky. I reach for a shirt Sam had given me just before I walked in and somehow manage to pull it over my head without passing out. A relieved sigh leaves me when I see that the material covers up most of the bruises, especially the ones that look like fists.

I shake my head in disgust. I always thought that the worst dangers I'd face would be the demons and monsters that we fight daily, not my own father. Anger bubbles up inside of me at the thought of the man I used to look up to and I slam my fist down on the counter. This turns out to be the worst decision of my entire life because as soon as my hand makes contact with the granite top, my entire body is consumed in white hot pain. My knees buckle and I fall to the floor, hitting my head on the way down. I yell as my frame hits the ground, curling in on myself. Black dots invade my vision and I can feel myself slipping away. The door flies open and Sam comes barging in, kneeling down next to me. He reaches out and says something but I can't make it out. Darkness consumes me and I fade off into unconsciousness.

* * *

 _So that's it for chapter three! I hope you guys loved it. I'll update as soon as I can. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated (seriously please go ahead and leave one if you don't mind, I love reading y'alls reactions to a chapter)._


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys! So I had a TON of inspiration today and guess what? I'm throwing two updates in ONE DAY! As always I hope you enjoy this next chapter!_

 _usual disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination_

* * *

Chapter Four

I come to with a loud groan and open my eyes. Sunlight pours in through a window to my right and I turn my head away from brightness and decide to survey my surroundings. Sam's dorm looks way different in the light and I roll my eyes at the books piled high on the dresser next to the bed. There's an old pizza box tossed on the table and papers scattered across the floor with my brother's chicken scratch scrawled across them in small letters. With a hiss I push myself up into a sitting position and rest my back against the headboard of the bed. It's them that I see the pillow and blanket thrown on the floor next to the bed, Sam must've slept there. A chuckle escapes me as I think about my 6'4 brother sprawled across the carpet with his knees tucked to his chest and a blanket tangled around his freakishly long legs.

As if on cue, Sam exits the bathroom and comes walking in. His hair is sopping wet and it drips onto his grey t-shirt. He seems pretty clean but his hands are still stained red from blood, my blood. I grimace at the thought. He offers me a small smile and plops down in the chair next to the bed.

"Good. You're awake." He hands me a bottle of water and I accept it gratefully. "How're you feeling Dean?"

"Like a million bucks." I say sarcastically. Sam rolls his eyes.

"Well you sure look like crap."

"Thanks."

"Anytime." He motions towards the small kitchen in the corner. "You hungry? I've got some leftovers in the fridge if you want them." My stomach growls at the mention of food and I nod. My brother stands up and heads towards the mini fridge. He's nearly there when there's a knock at the door and I nearly groan. Sam shrugs and walks towards the door. He pulls it open and I can hear the frustration in his voice when he speaks.

"What are you doing here?" His tone concerns me and I push myself out of bed, wincing when the movement jars my ribs. I limp over to the door so that I'm standing just behind my brother, but he's so freakin' tall I can't see who's there.

"Sam who is it?" I shuffle around trying to get a glimpse of the visitor, when a familiar voice fills the room.

"Hello Dean." I freeze at the normally welcoming greeting and take a step back.

"Dad?" My voice is barely above a whisper and I unconsciously put a hand over my ribs, remembering the fist that landed there the night before. Luckily Sam doesn't notice my discomfort. John turns to him.

"It's time to go home Sam. I came to get you." Sam shakes his head.

"Dad I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here." Our father frowns at him.

"Samuel Winchester you are coming home right now. Understood?"

"No Dad, I came here for a normal life. I'm not going back to your world of monsters." Dad throws his hands up in frustration and I'm suddenly terrified that he's gonna go after Sammy. On instinct I throw myself in front of him and block John's hand.

"Sam's made up his mind, Dad, just leave him be." His eyes are full of fury and for a moment I'm afraid he's gonna hit me again. Finally he nods.

"Fine. But you're coming with me, now." Not wanting to push my luck I nod slowly.

"Yes sir." My voice shakes slightly and I can feel my whole body trembling in fear. Unfortunately Sam picks up on it and puts his hand on my shoulder. In my terrified state I can't help the flinch that happens as soon as his hand touches my skin.

"No Dad. Dean's still recovering, he needs to stay a little while longer." John's eyes harden at the comment and he glances at me, his fury barely concealed.

"Recovering?" My eyes widen when I realize that he thinks I told Sam what happened.

"Sam stop." My voice is pleading and I can feel panic starting to set in. Dad's gonna kill me if he thinks I told Sam. Please shut up, please just shut up. Of course he ignores my pleas and plows on.

"Yeah Dean here decided to go after a Wendigo, alone." Sam tosses a disapproving look at me and I do what I hope is a shrug, but I'm shaking too bad to tell. "The thing tore him up pretty good."

Dad gives me one final glare before turning to Sam.

"Is that so?" I clench my jaw and try to avoid my father's warning gaze.

"Yeah." He gives Sam and sympathetic look.

"Well I'm sure I can take care of him well enough."

"Dad please. Let him stay a few days, just to make sure he's alright." The continued argument is nearly fraying my already tense nerve and it suddenly becomes really hard to breathe. John sighs and nods.

"Alright. But when he's up to it we're leaving Sam, and I suggest you come with us." Relief floods me and I nearly collapse on the spot. It takes all my resolve to limp back to the bed and have a seat without passing out. My breathing is insanely erratic and Sam gives me a worried look.

"You ok Dean?" I nod automatically, not missing the heated glare my dad gives me in the background.

"Yeah I'm good, just a little worn out I guess." At first I don't think he believes me, but eventually he nods and takes a seat next to me. Dad takes a step inside and closes the door behind him, much to Sam's discomfort. I throw one quick glance at him and he just continues to glare, warning me to keep my trap shut. With a gulp I avert my gaze and decide the ceiling looks really interesting at the moment. The awkward silence stretches on and finally Sam turns to the man in the corner.

"Hey Dad do you mind grabbing some breakfast? I'm sure you must be starving after that hunt, and Dean could probably use the energy." I wince when he brings my name into the conversation. Much to my surprise Dad simply nods.

"Sure thing, got any suggestions?"

"Anything but the burrito joint down the street." Sam gives him a tight smile and he turns towards the exit, ignoring the glare I give him as he leaves. My brother's turns to me, anger written on his face. "That son of a bitch. He thinks he can just waltz right in and boss me around!" He rolls his eyes. "I'm done taking orders from him." I nod.

"No kidding." I feel something running down my arm and look down to see blood seeping out from under the bandage around my bicep, staining the white shirt I'm wearing. A quick scan shows that the wound on my hip is bleeding too. Sam notices this and motions to the first aid kit.

"Do you need me to rewrap them for you?" I shake my head and gesture to the bathroom.

"Nah I've got it. I was thinkin' about jumping in the shower anyway." With a groan I haul myself to my feet, grabbing the kit and a clean t-shirt in the process, and shuffle to the bathroom. I'm shaking by the time I finally reach the door and I lean against it for a moment, trying to catch my breath.

"You ok Dean?" I can see Sam starting to stand in the corner of my eye and I wave him off.

"Yup. I'm good." With as little movement as possible I turn the knob and push the door open. As soon as I'm inside I fall back on the wooden door, trying to take as much of my weight as possible off of my injured leg. When I think I can manage it I stand back up and pull off my shirt, gasping in pain as the movement jars my ribs. As soon as it's off of me I unwrap the bandages on my ribs and toss them in the trash. I shrug out of my jeans, ignoring the black and blue splotches that cover my legs, and slowly make my way into the shower.

A sigh leaves me as the hot water flows over my skin, soothing the aches in my strained muscles. Steam curls around my legs and I watch as the water drops off of my body and onto the shower floor, stained a dull red. The blood that accumulated on my flesh throughout my ordeal washes off of my skin and goes down the drain and, for a moment, takes my pain with it. I breathe in deeply and lean against the side of the shower, letting the stream flow over me in a calm wave.

After a while the water turns cold and I reluctantly shut it off, climbing out of the shower soon after. I grab a towel that's sitting on the counter and wipe the remaining droplets off of my body, careful to avoid my injuries as I do so. With a little bit of effort I pull on my jeans and reach for the button up flannel I'd borrowed from Sam, it's a little big but it'll work. I glance up into the mirror just before my fingers reach the shirt, and I pause. Now that all the blood and grime is washed away I can see the full extent of my injuries, and it doesn't look good.

The bruises that I hoped would just look like splotches stand out starkly against my skin. Each fist shaped mark is clearly visible and the handprint on my arm hasn't gone away. Just to be sure I turn to look at my back and, plain as day, there's a perfect boot imprint.

"Crap. These are gonna be really hard to hide." I reach out for the flannel sitting on the counter and am about to pull it on, when the bathroom door opens and Sam pokes his head in.

"Hey Dean do you.. oh crap I'm sorr..." He stops mid-sentence and I follow his gaze to where it's landed on a very clear fist mark on my ribs. Immediately I jerk the shirt on and start to button it up. I've only gotten it halfway up when Sam finds his voice again.

"I thought you said this happened on a hunt." I continue buttoning up my shirt, ignoring his gaze.

"It did." I say simply. He squints his eyes at me.

"Oh yeah, what kinda monster was it?" I roll my eyes and turn to face him.

"I already told you, it was a banshee." A scowl adorns his face and he shakes his head.

"No, last night you said it was a Wendigo." My fingers freeze on the last button on my shirt and I can feel myself starting to panic.

"I honestly don't remember Sammy, I was pretty out of it last night." The excuse sounds lame even to my ears and I can tell he's not buying it.

"Quit lying to me. I know that this wasn't because you got sloppy on a hunt. Tell me what happened." I send a glare his way and try to get the door.

"Get outta my way Sam." I growl.

"Dean please, just tell me who did this." I push past him, much to the discomfort of my injuries, and walk over to the bed.

"Dean!" My brother continues to try and get my attention, but I just keep my back turned to him and ignore his pleas. I can hear his footsteps approaching and I know he's right behind me. "Dean, what the hell happened to you?!" He puts his hand on my shoulder and suddenly I'm back in that motel room, being beaten to a pulp by my own father. I whirl around, terrified that Dad is about to come after me again. My feet pound against the floor as I try desperately to back away, but my the back knees run into the bed and I go sprawling across the mattress. My momentum throws my onto the floor and I scramble away from my would be attacker towards the wall.

My eyes widen as I realize that Sam is standing by the bed, gaping at the sight of his big brother sitting terrified on the floor. Immediately I pick myself up off of the ground and lean against the wall, trying to get my breathing under control. The second that Sam opens his mouth I know I'm toast and I brace for the onslaught of questions.

"Dean this wasn't a monster was it?" I scoff at him and roll my eyes, trying to somehow keep my lie intact.

"Of course it was Sam. What else would it be?" I can see the gears turning in his head and I know his only mere moments from discovering the truth. My facade falters and his eyes lands on the finger shaped bruises on my arm, where John had shoved his thumb into the wound. Realization lights up his eyes and my heart drops.

"Oh my god. Dean did Dad do this?" I shake my head vigorously and try to deny it.

"Come on Sam! You don't seriously think that Dad would.." He cuts me off.

"Tell me the truth Dean!" I shrink back at his tone, it reminds me way too much of Dad's, and I look at everything but my brother. "Dean please." The begging in his voice breaks my last remaining walls of defense and I meet his gaze.

"Yes." With that one, tiny, whispered word, Sam explodes.

"He hit you?! Dean why did you tell me?!" My blood boils and I clench my hands into fists.

"Why didn't I tell you?! You think I want to admit that the man who raised me, the man I idolized, beat me?! That he called me a failure?! All because I couldn't do my damn job!" Rage fills me and I glare at the man across from me.

"Your job? Since when did hunting become more important than your safety Dean?!" I nearly roll my eyes at his naivety.

"My job isn't hunting Sam!"

"Then what is it?!" I throw my hands up in frustration, ignoring the agony that it causes me.

"Watching out for you!" His face contorts in confusion and he visibly deflated at the revelation.

"What?" He's no longer yelling and I can hear the guilt in his voice. "That's what this is about?"

"Yes!" I gesture wildly around the room. "You disappeared on my watch Sammy! Im supposed to protect you and I just let you wander off!" Anger flares in Sam's eyes as I rant and he shakes his head.

"You can't control me Dean! There's no way you could've stopped me from walking out that door. Dad has no right to blame you for what I did!"

"But he does, Sam! He does blame me! He gave me one job and, in his eyes, I failed. To him, I deserved every bit of what he did to me." My voice drops in volume and I look away. "Your leaving broke him, Sam, broke both of us." Silence falls over us and I'm about to just walk off and pretend like none of it ever happened, when my brother speaks up.

"Dean you didn't fail, you've never stopped looking out for me. It doesn't matter what Dad says." My heart squeezes painfully at the comment. I've spent my whole life trying to make Dad proud and to be just like him, to me everything he's ever said mattered. To have the reality of it all thrown in my face causes me to add somberly.

"It used to matter." Sam's face falls and he takes a step closer to me.

"You believed him, didn't you? When he called you a failure, you really believed it." My sorrowful gaze tells him everything he needs to know and he slams his hand against the wall. "That's it! I'm gonna give that bastard a piece if my mind!" Panic erupts in my soul and I shake my head.

"Sam no! Please don't! I can take it!" Sam stares at me, stunned. "I can take it." I repeat with more strength. "But if he ever.." ever went after you. The unspoken words weigh heavily on my shoulders and suddenly I can't hold myself up anymore. I collapse onto my knees and Sam immediately rushes to my side. He grabs ahold of my uninsured arm and holds me steady.

"Easy, Dean, easy." He hauls me to my feet and takes me back to the bed, laying my down on top of the soft mattress. I shake my head.

"I can't Sam. I can't let him hurt you. Please just leave it be." Sam is about to reply but the door opens and Dad comes walking in carrying a bag.

"Hey boys I was just.." He sees the glare Sam is giving him and stops short. "Is something wrong?" He looks directly at me, a clear warning on his face.

"No Dad, everything's fine. Sam and I were just talking." I can see the muscles in Sam's jaw clench as he bites back every expletive he's currently thinking about calling the man.

"Yeah. Just talking." John gives me one last look before moseying over to the table, setting the bag down on top of it.

"Ok. Who's hungry?"

* * *

 _Uh-oh John's back. How will Dean cope with it? And what's Sam gonna do now that he knows what their Dad did? Read the next chapter to find out. Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys! I'm just gonna go ahead and let you know that this is a pretty long chapter but it's worth it, I hope. I really hope you enjoy it._

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination_

* * *

Chapter Five

"Dean. Dean." I'm suddenly shaken awake from the fitful sleep that I'd managed to fall into and I groan loudly.

"Shh. Dean keep quiet." Sam's face appears in the dark and I glance at the clock on the nightstand. The bright green numbers clearly display 1:23 a.m.

"What's going on?" Sam helps me sit up and grabs my duffel, which he'd somehow managed to take from the motel after Dad had arrive, before pulling me to my feet. I glance over at our dad, who's snoring quietly in the armchair across the room.

"We're getting out of here." He leads me to the door and pushes it open, which is quite a feat considering he's carrying both of our duffel bags and most of my dead weight at the same time.

As soon as the door is closed Sam drags me out into the parking lot where I'd first shown up. It takes me a moment to realize that we're headed straight for the Impala and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Have you lost your mind? He's gonna kill us if we take the Impala!" My exclamation has much less effect than I was hoping because I have to whisper to keep quiet.

"And killing us will be a lot harder if we take his car now won't it?" Unable to argue with his logic, I nod and reluctantly let him help me into the passengers seat. Once we're inside I glance over at him.

"So did you plan on hot wiring it or..." To my relief Sam pulls the car keys out of his pocket and dangles them in the air for me to see before putting them in the ignition. The engine roars to life and I grimace at how loud it sounds in the quiet lot.

Sam puts his foot on the pedal and we take off out onto the road, cruising at seventy miles an hour.

"So where are we going?" I ask as I try to find the most comfortable position that doesn't put pressure on my injuries.

"Bobby's" Comes the one word reply. I should've known. Bobby's one of the only people either of us trust and if there's anybody you can keep John Winchester away, it's him. As we head down the road, watching as the city lights get dimmer and dimmer until they're nothing but a speck in the distance, exhaustion hits me and I doze off.

 _The room is eerily quiet as I sit up in bed, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Automatically I notice that my brother's bed is empty._

 _"Sam?" A familiar voice startles me._

 _"He can't help you now, no one can." I jump out of bed and face the owner of the voice. My dad stands in the corner, a knife held tightly in his grip. "You're all alone Dean. There's no one left to save you." Without warning he comes at me with the knife, slashing across my stomach, and I watch as my blood hits the floor. A kick to the leg has me falling on the ground. He hits me one, two, three times and my blood seeps into the cheap carpet, staining it a dull hue. Dad leans down and grabs my chin with his hand, forcing me to look at him._

 _"You nothing but a weak, broken man Dean. If you can't protect yourself from your own father, what good are you?" He stands up and gives me one last kick before pulling something out of his jacket. The metal of the gun barrel shines brightly in the light and my breath catches in my throat._

 _"Goodbye Dean." There's a loud bang, and then nothing._

"No!" I shoot up out of my seat and glance around the Impala, terrified. My hand flies to my ribs as the movement aggravates them and I slowly sit back down. Sam stares at me, wide eyed.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"Bad dream." I try to shake off his concern.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." I can tell that he wants to continue the conversation but, to my relief, he let's it go and focuses his eyes back on the road. My head is pounding and, not for the first time, I wish I kept some Advil in the car. I reach up slowly and begin to rub my temples with my hands, hoping to ease the pain. Same notices my discomfort and glances in my direction, motioning to the side of the road with his arm.

"Do you need me to pull over?" As helpful as that would be, we need to get to Bobby's as soon as possible, so I shake my head.

"Nah, I'll be ok. Let's just get to Bobby's." He nods and once again turns back to the street ahead. My eyes wander around out the window and I let out a sigh when I see a sign just up the road. It reads 'Welcome to Sioux Falls' and I find myself smiling involuntarily. I'll be glad once we get to the house and hopefully leave all this mess with Dad behind.

The Impala's engine stutters to a halt as we come to a stop in front of the old wooden house that belongs to none other than Robert Singer. Sam immediately jumps out of the car and jogs around to the passenger side, pulling open my door as he does so.

"You ready?" I nod and I lifts my right arm over his shoulder, I grit my teeth at the movement, and carefully pulls me to my feet. We trudge slowly up the porch steps of the house and Sam bangs on the door with his free hand, hard enough to almost shake the walls. I can hear Bobby's disgruntled voice inside.

"What in God's name is going on out there?!" The door opens and the man appears, a scowl on his tired face. He looks like he's about to rip us a new one for waking him up in the middle of the night, but as soon as his eyes land on me he goes slack jawed.

"What the hell happened to you?" I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to relive the events of the past few days but Sam is quick to answer.

"Dad." He answers through clenched teeth and I can see the anger flood into Bobby's eyes at the realization. With a wave of his hand he motions us inside and closes the door behind us.

"John did this?!" Fury laces his words as he looks me up and down, eyeing my injuries carefully. Sam nods and I look away, not wanting to meet his eyes. The effort of standing up is starting to really put a lot of strain on my injured body and I can feel my knees starting to wobble. Sam is filling Bobby in on what happened, well everything that I'd chosen to tell him anyway, but I'm not paying attention because all of my concentration is being spent trying not to pass out right then and there. I lean slightly into Sam, trying to relieve some of my weight from my tired legs. Pain flares up in just about every part of my body and I suck in a shaking breath.

I'm suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on me and I look up. Bobby has a worried look on his face, I hadn't even noticed that he'd started talking to me.

"Can you hear me, kid? I asked if you're ok."

"Yeah...I'm..." I try to answer him but suddenly the room is spinning and my knees buckle. My brother doesn't even have time to catch me as I collapse. My body connects with the floor and I let out a harsh cry, willing myself to just shut the agony out and push it to the back of my mind. But it's just too much and I start shaking uncontrollably. My two companions are immediately by my side and Bobby puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey you're ok Dean, just calm down. Take a breath." He starts checking me over for injuries and his hand accidentally brushes my ribs.

"Gah!" I recoil away from his touch but that causes my injured leg to support most of my weight and I let out another yelp. On instinct I try to curl in on myself trying to make it stop, but the pain only intensifies.

"Damn it. Sam help me get him to the couch!" They each get on one side of me and pick me up, carrying me to the red chair off to the side of the living room. I'm laid down on the semi soft cushions but the couch isn't long enough so my legs are jacked up at a weird angle. The second my legs are moved, pure agony envelopes my lower back where Dad's booted foot had come crashing down on it and I cry out.

Every inch of my body is ravaged by pain, sending my senses into overdrive and I can do nothing but scream as the shaking intensifies into an almost seizure like movement. Somehow I end up on the floor and I lie there, a whimpering mess. Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around me and I look up through the haze to see Sam's worried face. He pulls me to his chest trying desperately to ease the agony that is coursing through my veins. I choke back a sob and my brother puts a comforting hand on my upper back, careful not to touch any of my injuries.

"Dean." I can hear the fear in his voice and, even in my current state, I don't miss the tear that tracks down his face as he stares down at my trembling form. Bobby's voice fills my ears and slowly I lift my gaze to look at him.

"Take him to the bedroom Sam. Lie him down on the bed and I'll see if I can find something to help with the pain." My brother nods and, after a lot of effort, I'm on my feet and we slowly shuffle towards the door that leads to the room. By the time we're actually standing by the bed, I'm leaning all of my weight against him and I can barely hold myself up.

"Alright let's get you lying down."

As soon as I start to sit down, the whole world tilts on his axis and a wave of nausea hits me like a freight train. I turn to Sam.

"I think I'm gonna be sick." In an instant Sam is just about dragging me to the bathroom. With what little strength I have left I push him away and land on my knees in front of the toilet. I'm barely able to lean over it before I vomit. The foul substance stings my throats and my constant retching puts even more strain on my abused body. Even after I've emptied the meager contents of my stomach I continue to dry heave, biting back a scream as my pain tolerance is pushed to its breaking point.

The pain races through me like a wildfire, burning every nerve with a heat that scorches my bones. I've finally stopped vomiting but I honestly don't even notice because of the agony that's gripping me. A thin layer of sweat has settled over my skin and it drips down to mingle with the salty tears that have begun to fall during my ordeal. Eventually the pain subsides and I fall back onto the ground and lean against the wall. My whole body is trembling with exhaustion and I don't even have the strength to lift myself back up. I lie there, numb, until Sam reaches down and lifts my tired body up into his arms before carrying me to the mattress. He lays me down on top of the sheets and takes a seat next to me. He places a hand on my forehead, basically the only part of my body that's not injured, and shakes his head.

Another wave of pain washes over me, causing me to grab the sheets in a white knuckled grip. A yell escapes me and I squeeze my eyes shut trying to ride out the torture.

Suddenly the door opens and Bobby comes striding in, a water in one hand and a pill in the other. He sets the glass on the table next to the bed and holds the pill out to me.

"Take these, it's not much but it should at least dull the pain." I take the capsule in my palm and go to sit up, but I don't have the strength.

"Little help Sammy?" My voice shakes as I make the request and I hate how weak I sound even to my own ears. Sam puts an arm behind my back and slowly helps me into a sitting position. Bobby holds the glass out to me and I reach out to take it, but I can't even bring myself to lift my arm up.

"Damn it." I whisper as I turn my head away from the two. Sam takes the water and sits down beside me, taking the pill from my hand as he does so.

"Let me help." I give him a glare but it lacks its usual effect and my brother just brushes it off. "Come on Dean, you need to take these and you can't do it yourself." I grit my teeth intending to argue but it doesn't take me long to realize that he's right.

"Fine." Sam holds the water to my lips and I sip it slowly, trying to swallow the pill without choking on it. When I've finally gotten it down I lean back against the headboard and let out a breath.

"We should wrap your ribs back up, with all the strain you've been putting on them they could probably use it." Sam says as he stands to his feet. I nod and begin to unbutton the flannel that I'm wearing, wincing as I try to pull it off my shoulders without hurting myself too much. My brother reaches out and tries to help take it off but I push his hands away.

"Sam I can do it myself. At least let me keep some of my dignity." He backs off and I finally work the shirt off of my body. I hear a gasp and glance up. Bobby stands rooted to his spot staring at the exposed skin of my torso, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists. I'd completely forgotten that he hadn't seen how bad it was.

"Oh my god." He takes a step forward, mesmerized by the pattern that was beaten into me only a day and a half ago. "John did this to you?" My heart clenches at the reminder of my attackers identity and my voice leaves me. I can only nod at Bobby's scrutinizing gaze. Apparently his mind wanders back to the episode I had in the living room and he shakes his head. "What happened to you back?" I raise my hands slightly and try to wave him off.

"It's not that bad, there's just.." He cuts me off.

"That's bullshit Dean and you know it, I saw the way you reacted." Realizing that I'm not going to tell him what happens he orders out. "Turn around."

"Bobby.." He interrupts me again.

"No Dean, don't you dare lie to me and say that it's not that bad. Now do as I say." My head droops and I turn around slowly. I can hear his intake of breath as his eyes land on the boot print on the small of my back and the bruises up across my shoulders and neck.

"Is that all of them?" I don't answer and I can feel his gaze boring into my back. Suddenly Sam's voice breaks through the temporary silence.

"Dean?" My shoulders slump and I can tell that they aren't going to let this go. "Are there more?" I take a deep, shuddering breath before turning to face them again but I refuse to meet their eyes.

"Yes." My voice cracks as I utter the single word and I reach down to undo the button on my jeans. I let the fabric fall to the floor, leaving me in nothing but my boxers, revealing the roadmap of black and blue that covers my legs. The area where Dad stomped on my thigh is swollen and bruised to the point where my skin nearly looks black. I glance up at their faces and am met with looks of such pity that I have to look away, unable to admit my weakness.

"Dean...I'm so sorry. This never.."

"Don't." I cut him off. "Don't apologize like there's something you could've done." Sam shakes his head and takes a step forward.

"But if I had just.."

"No Sam. Don't you dare put this on yourself. This wasn't your fault, you hear me?" He looks away and I take an unsteady step forward, holding o to the nightstand for support. "You hear me?" He nods reluctantly and and I sigh before lowering myself back down onto the bed.

"Im gonna go get something to wrap your ribs." With that statement Sam walks out the door, leaving me alone with Bobby. The older man looks at me but I avoid his gaze, ashamed.

"I'm sorry Bobby." I mutter quietly. He looks at me, an astonished look on his face.

"You're what?" I swallow and bow my head.

"I knew Dad had been drinking a lot that night, if I had just paid more attention I would've seen how unstable he was. I might've been able to stop this from happening, I shouldn't have confronted him when he was that drunk." Bobby stares at me, stunned, and suddenly he explodes.

"You idjit! What the hell are you thinking?! Your Dad might have been a little tipsy but I've never known someone who could hold their liquor better than John. He knew exactly what he was doing!" He takes a step towards me and points a finger in my face. "So don't you dare think, for one second, that this is your fault!" I clench my jaw and look away.

"Bobby..."

"No Dean." He cuts me off, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What happened to you was wrong. And there's nothing you could've done to stop it." Bobby puts a hand on my shoulder and, on instinct, I flinch. My eyes widen when I realize what I'd just done and I finally meet his gaze. The look of pure hurt on his face breaks my heart. I open my mouth to say something but Sam walks in, his face flushed. We turn to him.

"Sam, what's wrong?" He shakes his head and motions to the door.

"A car just pulled up outside. It's Dad." My heart stops at the announcement and I sink back down onto the bed, a crushing weight settling on my shoulders.

"No." I whisper. My companions notice my reaction and Sam frowns.

"Don't worry Dean, we'll get him out of here." He stalks out of the room, fuming. Bobby gives me a reassuring nod, then turns to follow my brother out the door. I sit on the bed and try to fight off the panic that's once again starting to overtake me. My breath comes in short gasps as I think about the confrontation that's probably taking place outside. Suddenly there's a noise by my window and I glance up just in time to see a figure come crawling through the opening. My heart jumps into my throat when I see the intruder's face.

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 _Well that's it for chapter Five! Who is the intruder? Read the next chapter to find out. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! So I think this is going to be the last chapter, as sad as it may be to see it end. So I really hope you enjoy it._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination_

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Chapter Six

"Hi Dean. Did you miss me?" My dad stands up and throws me a gut wrenching smile. He reaches into his jacket and my breath hitches when I see the crowbar that's now in his right hand. John takes a step forward and I scoot as far away as possible.

"Get away from me."

"Aww. Now where would be the fun in that?" He continues to advance and I push myself to my feet, staggering backwards slightly. Laughter bubbles from his throat at the sight of me and I glare. "Look at yourself Dean. You're a mess."

"Yeah. I think I have you to thank for that." I back up until I hit the wall and I can see a glint in his eye, the same one that shone so brightly that night. I can sense the attack before it happens and my muscles tense in anticipation.

Dad runs at me with the crowbar held out in front of me. Somehow I manage to dodge the blow and throw a hit to his ribs. He grunts when I make contact but recovers quickly, spinning around to face me. My reflexes are dulled by the constant pain I'm in and I can't block the crowbar as it comes swinging at my ribs. I howl when it hits the tender flesh and, with one look at his malicious smile, I know that that was his intention. He comes at me again, aiming for my right thigh in the exact spot where he'd caused the swollen wound there. My knees buckle and I collapse, barely able to catch myself before I hit the floor. The next hit lands right in the small of my back and it clicks, he remembers exactly where he hit me last time. This only confirms Bobby's statement earlier, if my dad really had been drunk there's no way he would be able to remember the precise places where he beat me. He was sober when he attacked me.

This new revelation sends a surge of adrenaline pumping through my veins and I kick out with my good foot, knocking his legs out from under him. I take the opportunity to try and crawl away but he reaches out and grabs ahold of my ankle, pulling me backwards. I kick against his hold but I can't get free and I look up just in time to see the crowbar come flying at my head. In the split second that it takes me to realize what's happening, the metal crashes against my skull and I see stars. The back of my head explodes with pain as he lashes out again and I let out a bloodcurdling scream. Suddenly the door is thrown open and Bobby and Sam come sprinting in. I'm hit in the head one last time before my dad is finally yanked off of me.

I watch as my brother and Bobby drag him, kicking and screaming, out of the room. Warm trickles of blood flow down my head from the back of my skull along with my forehead and temple, leaving thick red lines across my face. I can feel it pooling around my neck and I slowly push myself up, very aware of the shouts from the other room. The sound of a gun cocking stops me in my tracks and I wait, praying that it doesn't go off. After about fifteen seconds of silence I crawl over to the nightstand and pull out my 1911 from the drawer where Sam had stashed it when we arrived. I wipe some of the blood away from my eyes as I check the magazine and, seeing that it's fully loaded, jam it into the pistol. I can hear hollering in the other room and I use all the strength I have left to haul myself to my feet. With shaking limbs as stumble over to the door.

My hand wraps around the wooden frame and I look out into the living room. I can see Bobby, Sam, Dad, and another man standing in the middle of the room. Bobby is holding Sam back, trying to guard him from the gun that's currently being aimed at him as he struggles to get ahold of Dad. The man, whom I'm guessing Dad brought with him, has the weapon trained on my brother, ready to pull the trigger. I use the wall to support my weight as I carefully edge my way to the area, making sure to stay out of sight of the intruders. Now that I'm close enough I can hear the words that are being screamed at my dad.

Sam struggles fiercely against Bobby's hold, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"You son of a bitch! How could you do this to Dean?!" I can see the rage on his face and I will my tired body to go faster. My breath comes is painful rasps and I'm on the verge of passing out but I force myself to hang on. I'm nearly in the room when Bobby's voice joins the conversation.

"Get the hell off of my property, you bastard!" I can hear John's chuckle as I come around the corner.

"Who's gonna make me, Bobby?" I choose that moment to speak up, gun raised and aimed at my dad.

"I am." My hands shake slightly from exhaustion but somehow I managed to keep the pistol steady. I can see the anger starting to build and I tighten my grip, trying to ignore the blood that's steadily running down my face. "Get out." Dad smiles.

"You wouldn't shoot your own father." He says smugly. I scoff.

"That's true," I say as I take a trembling step forward. "But you're not my father anymore. Now get the hell out and never come back." He opens his mouth to say something but I don't hear it because of the ear splitting bang that shatters the air. It only takes me a moment to realize where it came from. The man next to my dad stands with his gun trained in me, smoke curling out of the barrel. A searing pain erupts in my abdomen and I look down. Blood seeps from a single gunshot wound and I can feel myself getting dizzy. I collapse to my knees and throw one hand out to steady myself while the other is pressed to the injury.

"No!" Dad's voice suddenly breaks through my clouded mind and I look up to see him fighting back against my attacker. In that one brief moment I see the man that I used to look up to, not the man who beat me. I see my dad.

As soon as it appears it vanishes and he lets himself be lead out the door. My heart breaks in two, I thought that maybe he would become himself again but I guess that's just too much to ask.

I don't remember hitting the ground but suddenly I'm being pulled into someone's lap and I look up to see my brother, tears falling freely from his eyes.

"Dean, you're gonna be ok. Just hang on." He places a hand on my cheek and tries to reassure me. My lip trembles as I look at him.

"Is he gone?" My voice cracks and I can see black dots creeping in on my vision. Sam offers me a sad smile.

"Yeah Dean, he's gone. Don't worry I'm never gonna let him hurt you again." I nod and see Bobby sprinting towards us, a towel in hand. He presses it over my stomach and I hiss as the pressure intensifies the pain. I look down at the dull red color that begins to spread over the fabric.

That's a lot of blood. I sluggishly try to help put pressure on it but Bobby moves my hand away.

"You're gonna be ok, son. We've got ya." I can feel consciousness slipping away and I nod.

"I know." My strength leaves me and I let myself be pulled into the welcoming darkness.

My head pounds as I come to and I slowly try to open my eyes. The bright light that greets me has me snapping them shut, trying to ward off the headache that's thrumming behind my eyes. I'm about to drift off when I hear a door opening off to my right and I turn, eyes still closed, to face the newcomer.

"Hey." Sam's voice floats through the air and I point up at where I think the lights are.

"Turn.. lights off." There's some shuffling followed by a click and the lights automatically fade out. I open my eyelids and glance at the man across the room. My brother walks over and takes a seat on the bed next to me.

"How're ya feeling, Dean?"

"Just peachy Sammy. How're you?" He rolls his eyes at my statement and shakes his head.

"Is it even physically possible for you not to be sarcastic?" I shoot him my signature grin and shrug.

"Nope." A twinge of pain in my abdomen reminds me of the events that took place earlier and I look down to see the damage. Most of my midsection is covered in white bandages, the only bare skin is at my collarbone, and I can feel the pull of stitches with every breath I take.

"Did Bobby get the bullet out?" Sam nods.

"Yeah." A somber look cross his face and I can feel a chick-flick moment coming on. "You really scared me Dean. I thought we were gonna lose you." Yeah you're not the only one. My heart is caught in a vice grip at the thought but I quickly hide it behind a smile.

"Come on Sammy, you didn't think you were gonna get rid of me that easy did you?"

His face remains sorrowful and he frowns.

"I'm serious Dean. Aside from Bobby you're all I've got left, I can't lose you." I sigh, my expression turning serious.

"You won't. I'm not going anywhere, ever. You understand?" My brother shifts on the bed uncomfortably and I can tell he's still skeptical.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'm your big brother and I promised that I would take care of you, so that's exactly what I'm gonna do." Sam seems to relax a bit at my declaration and I nod my head in satisfaction. With a sigh I clasp my hands together and smirk.

"Ok, enough with the chick-flick lovey dovey crap. I could really use some pie so how about you run to the diner and grab me a slice, or three?" My brother rolls his eyes but stands up all the same.

"You know if you keep eating that you're gonna fat."

"Shut up, Moose. You're just jealous because I got blessed with all the good looks and charm."

"No seriously Dean, I think I'm starting to see a little bit of a muffin top when you put your jeans on." There's a playful glint in his eye and for the first time in a while I feel a genuine sense of joy.

"Bitch." I say as he walks out the door.

"Jerk." Comes the familiar reply. A chuckle escapes me and I settle back into the mattress content to just lie there letting all of my worries take a backseat. I feel as if a massive weight has been lifted off of my shoulders and I find my eyelids fluttering tiredly. Exhaustion overcomes me and I fall into the first restful sleep that I've had in a long time, until the smell of apple pie has me wide awake.

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 _So that's the END. Please let me know if you like the ending or if you would like to see something else happen or if you want anything sorted out. Reviews are extremely welcome and appreciated._


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey guys! So I realized that I left a lot of unanswered questions in this story so I've decided to add a few more chapters to clear things up. This one focuses on John, I really hope you enjoy it._

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Chapter Seven

John's POV

My hands shake as I lift the half full whiskey bottle to my lips, the adrenaline of the encounter with my sons has worn off and left me drained. The familiar burn of the alcohol as it spills down my throat no longer comforts me as I sit in a rickety old wooden chair in the middle of a farmhouse that had been abandoned decades ago. The scene is all too familiar to the night that I crossed I line that I promised I never would, the night that I hurt my family. My grip on the glass tightens and I slam it down on the table in front of me and watch as it shatters, sending bits of glass flying in a million directions.

The floorboards behind me creak and I turn around to see a man come walking into the room, the same man that only hours ago had shot my eldest son. He slowly makes his way to the chair across from me and takes a seat, eyeing me carefully.

"John.." He starts.

"Don't." I interrupt him. "Just don't." A sigh escapes him and he rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward as he does so. My jaw clenches and I avoid his gaze. Despite my earlier warning my companion plows on.

"John, what you did tonight, it was the right thing to do. Dean deserved everything that we did, even that night in the hotel." I scoff and finally look up at him through squinted eyes.

"Right, because every child deserves to be beaten by their parents." Sarcasm drips from my words and the man across from me frowns. "What I did wasn't right, I never should've reacted the way that I did. Don't even try to convince me otherwise, Brian." Brian's eyes harden and he grips the table tightly.

"Have you forgotten what he put you through John? Did you forget that Dean broke his promise, the only promise that ever mattered? He failed you, that's not something that can just be forgiven." My eyes fall to the glass in my hand and I shake my head ruefully.

"You sure did a hell of a job convincing me that that was true."

 _I listen to the familiar dull roar of the Impala's engine as I pull into the motel parking lot and a tired grin adorns my features. The Raw Head hunt had gone off without a hitch, especially when an old hunting partner of mine happened to be in the same town and offered me a hand. I glance over at the passenger seat where said partner was currently snoozing with his head against the window. With a quick roll of my eyes I reach over and shove him slightly. He wakes up with a jolt and shoots a glare my way._

 _"A simple 'We're here' would've been fine, John." I shrug my shoulders._

 _"You're such a hard sleeper that I could've blown a damn car horn in your ear and you wouldn't have woken up, Brian. Now quit your complaining and help me unload the gear, the boys'll wanna see ya before you head out." He sluggishly rises from his seat and clambers out of the car before walking to the trunk of the car. I follow his lead and make my way around back before inserting the key into the trunk and pulling it open with a loud creak. My duffel sits on top of the multitude of weapons that clutter the space and I grab it, slinging it over my shoulder as I do so. Brian grabs the rest of the gear and trudges behind me as I lead the way to the motel room._

 _Once I reach the door I raise my hand and knock seven times in rapid succession, a clear sign to the boys that it's me. I wait a few moments and frown when they don't answer the door. My hands clench in annoyance at their antics and I knock again, with the same result._

 _"Open up guys, it's me." An uneasy feeling settles over me at the lack of commotion inside the room. "Dean? Sam? You boys in there?" I immediately drop my duffel on the ground and search it for the motel room key that I'd brought with me just in case. After a few moments I locate the blue piece of metal and insert it into the knob before pushing the door open with a sigh._

 _"You kids know better than not to answer the door. What are you..." I stop short when I see that the room is empty and I look around in confusion. My eyes land on the bags sitting next to the beds, or should I say bag, one of them is missing. I let out an exasperated sigh and throw my duffel on the mattress nearest to me._

 _"I told them not to go on any hunts until I got back." With a huff I pull out my cell phone and dial Dean's number. It rings three times before his voice sounds over the line._

 _"This is Dean. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone." I hang up and try again, getting the same result. I repeat the process with Sam but end up in the same situation. My muscles tense slightly as my anxiety grows. They know to answer their phones, especially if I'm the one calling. Brian's voice pulls me from my thoughts._

 _"Everything alright, John?" I shake my head._

 _"I don't know." In a last ditch effort I punch in the only other person that might have an idea where my boys are. The phone rings twice and for a minute I don't think he's gonna answer but finally a gruff voice greets my ears._

 _"John. I figured I'd be hearing from you."_

 _"And why's that Bobby?" There's a slight hesitation over the line and my concern grows. "Bobby?"_

 _"Have you talked to Dean?" Anger is starting to build in me as my question goes unanswered._

 _"No. Thats why I'm calling you. Do you know where he is?"_

 _"I'm not his babysitter John. That idgit comes and goes wherever he pleases, and he sure as hell doesn't tell me where he's going." I can tell he's stalling and my hands clench into fists at the delay._

 _"Robert Singer you'd better cut the bull crap right now or I swear I'll..."_

 _"You'll what?" He interrupts. "If you wanna know where those boys are you're just gonna have to find out for yourself. I don't know where they are and I sure as hell ain't gonna deal with your pissy attitude all night so you can bitch about them not following orders."_

 _"Bobby..." He hangs up the phone before I can get another word in and I slam the device shut in frustration. Brian gives me a questioning look and I shake my head. "Something's going on, and I'm gonna find out what." Suddenly my mind snaps to the bag sitting by the bed and I walk over, picking it up off the floor as I do so. Under closer inspection I realize that it's Dean's, the abundant number of black t-shirts are a dead giveaway, and I glance around one more time to make sure I didn't miss something. Sure enough Sam's duffel has disappeared._

 _My face burns red hot and I toss the bag onto the ground. Brian sees my frustration._

 _"He left, didn't he?" My eyes narrow into slits at his words. There's no other explanation for Sam's sudden vanishing act, he never would've brought all of his stuff with him just to go on a hunt. Even his precious laptop's gone, which has no use out in the middle of things._

 _"Sure looks that way." My companion tenses at my agreement and takes a seat in the chair across from me._

 _"Didn't you give them strict orders to stay put?" I offer him a nod and he frowns. "They should've known better. Dean should've done a better job of keeping an eye on Sam." I give him a weary look._

 _"Dean is a lot of things, but a miracle worker isn't one of them. There's no way he could've kept Sam here any longer than the kid wanted." Brian shakes his head._

 _"Do you really believe that? Dean's the big brother, he should be competent enough to keep his sibling in a motel room long enough for you to get back."_

 _"I guess, but..." He cuts me off._

 _"What's the most important promise that you made Dean make? What's the number one priority in his life?" I rest my elbows of my knees and cock my head to the side._

 _"Take care of Sammy."_

 _"Exactly. And what's the one thing he failed to do?" Anger is slowly building in my soul and I spit out heatedly._

 _"Watching out for Sam." Brian nods._

 _"You gave him one job, one simple job, and he couldn't even do that. I'll bet he just let him walk out the front door, you know the soft spot he has for the kid. Hell, he probably encouraged it." I rise to my feet and begin pacing the room. "Dean doesn't know the difference between helping Sam and hurting him, you're his father you know what's best for him. Dean should know better than to make that sort of call. He wants to be like you so bad that he decided that he had the authority to let Sam walk out of your life." My hands clench in anger and I glance at him, taking in every word._

 _"He's a pathetic excuse for a hunter, John. A pathetic excuse for a son! He had no right to take your boy from you!" I stop in my tracks and set my jaw. "Are you just gonna let him get away with it?! Are you just gonna let that son of a bitch steal your Sammy right out from under your nose?!"_

 _"Enough!" I slam my fist into the wall and grimace as the flesh hits the sheetrock. Brian takes a step back and I motion to the door. "It's time for you to go, Brian. I have some business to attend to." With a nod my friend exits the room and I take a seat at the table in the corner. My hand closes around the neck of the unopened bottle of whiskey that sits on the surface and I unscrew the cap before hoisting the bottle to my lips. An unrelinquished fury settles deep into my bones and I grip the glass tighter. Brian was right. Dean needs to be punished. I sit with my back pressed firmly against the chair and I watch the door, waiting anxiously for my eldest son to return._

My hand releases the glass that I'm holding and I throw a glare at Brian.

"I never should've listened to you. This wouldn't have happened if I'd just walked away. Dean wouldn't be injured, probably dead, right now and Sam wouldn't give me that look of betrayal every time he sees me." I shake my head in dismay. "I would still be their father."

"Oh it still would've happened. With you as their dad, it was inevitable." I glance up at Brian confused. A sly grin is plastered on his face and he nods. "That's right, even if I hadn't shown up that night, you still would've snapped eventually. And deep down you know that it's true. All that anger, all that bitterness, all that hate; it's been boiling in that skin of yours way to long not to make an appearance." I stand from my chair, anger shining in my eyes.

"Shut the hell up! This is your fault!" He offers me a sad smile and shakes his head.

"No John, this is all on you. It was always there, I just gave it a little push." The second the sentence leaves his mouth, my companion's eyes flash pitch black and I stumble back a step. I recover quickly and shout in anger.

"You son of a bitch!" My hands immediately coil around the gun tucked into my waistband and I whip it out, aiming it at the demon. "How long have you been in Brian?" The demon chuckles.

"Why, ever since the two of you met all those years ago, and boy did I get results. You know I was expecting you to get a little rough with Dean, but I never imagined that you'd actually try and kill him." He shrugs. "Oh well, it was just the icing on the cake I guess. Let me tell you John, I'm impressed." Rage fills me and I fire into the man's leg causing blood to gush from the wound. He looks down at the injury.

"Cute. You know that you'll have to kill me in order to get results though John." He traces an x over his heart. "Right there Johnny boy, or you'll never get rid of me." I don't say a word and he sighs. "I knew you couldn't do it. Too many memories with this meat suit I guess, oh well maybe.." His sentence falls short when a gunshot rings through the air and I watch as his body falls limply to the ground. With a grunt I put the safety back on my gun and tuck it safely away. Black smoke flows from Brian's mouth and I watch as it curls in the air before disappearing. I look down at the body of my friend, or the man I considered a friend. It turns out I never even met the real man behind the mask, I guess that's what made killing him a little bit easier.

"You hurt my son, there's no forgiveness for that." I spit at the lifeless form. The truth of my words rings in my ears and I bow my head, ashamed. There's no forgiveness for beating my son, no matter what the circumstances.

The reality of my situation suddenly comes crashing down on me and I sink to my knees. I let a demon trick me into beating one of my own kids, what kind of hunter does that make me? What kind of father does that make me? Dread fills me as I realize there's only one thing left to do and I stand to my feet, leaving the body behind. I pull out my cell phone and with a moments hesitation I punch in the number of the man whose life I've destroyed.

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 _well thats it for chapter seven. I hope you liked it! I would also like to thank everyone for giving me suggestions for this chapter. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! I'm so happy to hear that some of y'all enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you feel the same about this one. Just to clarify this chapter takes place a little while before John calls, so that's why the timeline is different._

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Chapter Eight

Dean's POV

 _Blood. It's everywhere. It drips down the walls in a thick red line, staining the sheetrock with death. The liquid inches towards me, pulling at my fingertips and seeping through my clothes. I look around the room in a crazed frenzy trying to find the source of the sudden bloodbath. A searing pain erupts in my abdomen and I glance down to see the red substance gushing from the gunshot wound that had appeared. My hands immediately move to cover the injury but my ribs crack and scream in protest, causing me to bite back a scream._

 _"Look at you Dean." My father's voice sends shivers down my spine and on instinct I try to back away but I can't move, I'm frozen in place. He motions to my battered body and scowls. "You're pathetic. I've spent all my life trying to teach you to suck it up, to be a man. Now look at you. You're nothing but a weak, worthless waste of my time." I try to spit out a retort but the only thing that comes out is a sputtering gurgle as my blood rises in my throat, choking me. John shakes his head and kneels down beside me._

 _"You don't deserve to call yourself my son. No son of mine would ever let his little brother go out on his own into a world of monsters, demons, and ghosts without protection. I bet you were just too afraid to even try to keep him safe, too scared of the monster that killed your poor mommy all those years ago. You didn't have the guts to go after him." He reaches down and jabs a thumb into my stomach causing black dots to dance across my vision. I look away and try to suck in a deep breath but blood blocks my airway, suffocating me. I can feel the warm liquid dripping down my chin as he continues._

 _"You know I enjoyed it, that night back at the motel. I enjoyed the feeling of your bones crunching beneath my fists, of your flesh tearing away when I cut into you with that bottle. And there was nothing you could do to stop me." He grabs my face with his hand and holds it tightly, forcing me to look at him. "But do you wanna know what the best part was? The best part was the look on your face. You put so much faith in me knowing that I was a killer and a drunk. You were so damn desperate for something meaningful in your worthless life that you never even noticed how much I hated you. I didn't put up with you because I loved you, I did it because it was convenient. And when it finally did dawn on you just who you were dealing with, it was too late." A chuckle escapes him as he presses down harder onto my bullet wound. I can feel myself fading but he shakes me awake._

 _"Oh you can't go just yet kiddo. There's something I've gotta tell you first. You spend so much time trying to protect your baby brother that you don't pay near enough attention to your own health. That's really gonna bite you in the ass when I come back and you're so jacked to hell that you can't do anything to stop me." He leans close to my ear and whisper. "And I promise you, I will come back." That's the last thing I hear before the darkness overtakes me._

I wake up with a jolt and look around the room frantically. Cold sweat pours down my head and shoulders, dripping down my body in a fervent stream. A gasp escapes me as the stitches in my stomach pull painfully and my ribs grate underneath the thick bandages, nearly causing me to black out. I grip the bedsheets tightly and glance around until my eyes land on Sam, who's curled up in a chair in the corner. _I'm coming back._ My dad's words echo loudly in my ears and I leap to my feet, ignoring the agony that the movement causes. I shuffle over to the window and make sure it's locked up tight before moving to the door. I exit into the living room and glance around. Panic builds inside me when I see the number of windows and doors, too many places for Dad to get in. My feet move of their own accord as I make my way over to the bookshelf and, with all my strength, I start to push it in front of the window.

Agony tears through my body at the strain I'm putting on my abused muscles and I can feel my some of the stitches popping open along with every other injury I've sustained making itself known. A cry rips from my throat as I throw one last shove into the bookcase before I'm finally able to get it into place. My breath comes in heaving, ragged gasps and I'm on the verge of passing out but I refuse to give in. I can't let John come after us again, we won't be able to stop him. I grab one of Bobby's chairs and prop it underneath the knob on one of the doors, successfully preventing it from being opened. I'm just about to block another window when a voice echoes through the room.

"Dean?" The question startles me and I nearly go tumbling off of the countertop that I'm currently standing on while trying to reach a window, but I somehow manage to catch myself. I turn to see Sam standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face. My eyes snap back to the task at hand, I don't have time to explain this to him. Dad will be back soon. Unfortunately my obvious dismissal goes unnoticed and he speaks up again.

"Dean what are you doing? You're gonna pull your stitches, get down from there." I've managed to board up the glass by now and without acknowledging him I climb down and head to the next room, searching for any more possible entry points. "Dean talk to me." Sam reaches out and, before I can stop him, puts a hand on my shoulder. My skin crawls at the sensation and I jerk away in fear, waiting for the pain the touch would surely cause to erupt. When nothing happens I slowly back away waiting for the blow that I know is coming. Dad must've taught Sammy a thing or two in the time he was around, why wouldn't he have picked up some of his more violent habits as well. My brother sees the terror in my eyes and his hand drops to his side. I don't miss the hurt that flashes across his face. I turn back around and immediately fall back into the rhythm that I've somehow managed to create during my mad dash for security.

"Dean stop." I ignore his command. "Dean, what's going on? Just look at me man." With an irritated sigh I whirl around, simultaneously fighting off the nausea that the movement brings.

"Dad's coming back. I've gotta make sure that he can't get in. I've gotta keep you safe." He's taken aback by my statement and I can see the concern creeping into his features.

"Dean it's ok. He's not coming back, you're safe." I shake my head vigorously.

"No we're not. We'll never be safe. He's always gonna keep hunting us, he's always gonna come back." A feeling of urgency settles over me and I try to continue locking up the house. My hands shake as I desperately attempt to grasp the lock on the door but every time I get a good hold on it my sweating palm just slips off. I'm starting to hyperventilate. I have to get it locked. I have to keep Dad out. After the fourth unsuccessful attempt I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair and spin around, wide eyed. Sam sees my condition and steps forward.

"Hey calm down. It's ok, everything's gonna be ok." My hands clench into fists.

"It's never gonna be ok! Don't you see that? We're always gonna have targets on our backs! He'll never leave us alone." I try to brush past him but he grabs my arm. I try to jerk away but his grip only tightens.

"Dean stop, you're gonna hurt yourself." I struggle against his hold and he sighs. In one fluid motion he pulls me to his chest and wraps his arms around my body in an almost bear hug-like grip. I fight against his hold and, with a well placed elbow to his solar plexus, I break free. I'm barely able to take three steps before I stumble and go crashing to the floor, my body landing with a loud thud. Sam immediately reaches out to try and help me but I scoot away, terrified of the agony that I'm waiting to consume me. Unfortunately the movement causes fire to spark in my abdomen, ribs, and just about every other part of my body. With a cry I curl in on myself trying to protect my beaten form. The second I move my legs white hot pain envelopes my lower back and I reach around trying to ease some of the discomfort. My brother is suddenly by my side attempting to help me but he doesn't dare put a hand on me in fear that I'll hurt myself more.

Finally the pain subsides and I slowly unfold myself until I'm lying on my side. Sam notices the change and speaks up.

"Dean? Are you ok?" My mouth is dry and I try to swallow around the lump in my throat.

"Yeah I think I..." I start to answer but the sound of a door opening in another room has me stopping short. I'm instantly on edge as I listen to heavy footsteps approaching. With the last of my strength I push myself in front of Sam, effectively putting myself between him and whatever is coming, and search for a weapon. The first thing my eyes land on is a half full whiskey bottle and I immediately grab it around the neck, ignoring the bloody memories that flash before my eyes at the contact. I can feel Sam tense behind me and he goes to move in front of me. As soon as I realize what he's doing I put a hand out to stop him, ignoring his protests.

"Dean you're in no condition to.." I cut him off.

"Sam stay behind me."

"But Dean..."

"No Sam! I can't let him hurt you. Now stay behind me." The footsteps have gotten louder, echoing through the quiet room, and my muscles tense in anticipation. Just before the intruder steps into the room I swing the bottle in an arc but my weakened state slows my movements just enough for the attack to be blocked. The bottle is knocked to the floor, shattering when it makes contact with the hard surface, and I glance wildly at the man in front of me. When I discover his identity I let out a harsh sigh.

Bobby stares at me, wide eyed, and I take a step back.

"What the hell are you doing you idjit? You coulda killed me!" My gaze falls to the ground and I shake my head, ashamed.

"I'm sorry Bobby. I thought you were..." I catch myself before I finish the sentence and he gives me a worried look.

"You thought I was who?" My lips tighten into a thin line and I refuse to answer. Unfortunately Sam has other ideas.

"He thought you were Dad." I give my brother a heated glare but he pretends not to notice. My friend turns his eyes towards me with a tired sigh.

"Is that true?" My heart tightens painfully at the pitting tone in his voice. At first I consider lying to him but I decide the truth is probably the best option and I nod.

"Balls." He takes a step forward but I back away. Realization flashes across his face and he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Hey it's ok. It's just me." My friend slowly reaches toward me, careful not to move too fast and spook me. Every fiber in my body is telling me to run and there's alarm bells going off in my head but I push it away. This is ridiculous, this is Bobby. He would never hurt me. _That's what you thought about your dad too._ I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ignore the thought as the man's hand lands on my shoulder. It takes every bit of resolve I have left not to flinch away from his touch and I take a shaky breath.

I can hear both men's sigh of relief at the victory and if I hadn't been about to lose it I would've laughed at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. His other hand lands on my shoulder and my muscles tense, involuntarily bracing for a blow. Instead I'm pulled into a hug and I freeze, unsure of what to do.

"It's gonna be ok kid. You're gonna be ok." With that one sentence it's as if all the weight of the past few days is lifted from my shoulders and all my emotions come crashing down on me at once. Rage, fear, guilt, regret. It suffocates me like a thick blanket and I choke back a sob. My legs give out and I'm slowly lowered to the ground, my whole body trembling. By the time I'm sitting Sam and Bobby have taken their spots next to me but it does little to calm my nerves.

"He's gonna come back." I whisper brokenly. The shaking intensifies and I feel like I'm gonna just rattle apart. My breathing comes in short gasps and I fight desperately to hold myself together. "He always comes back." Sam's fists clench in anger and he turns to me.

"Then let him. By the time I'm done with him he'll regret that he ever came after you." I can feel my consciousness fading from the strain I'd put myself through and I involuntarily lean against my brother's shoulder for support.

"You can't stop him Sammy. No one can." My brother shakes his head.

"He'll never hurt you again, Dean. Ever." He puts a reassuring hand on my trembling shoulder. "I promise." I want to try to explain everything to him, try to make him understand, but I don't have the strength anymore. I'm just so tired. It doesn't take long before I succumb to the darkness that's calling me, falling back into the nightmare, scratch that, the reality that threatens to swallow me whole.

* * *

The conscious world comes back to me in a blinding flash of light as my eyes fly open, burning painfully from the lamp that is shining in them from its place on the nightstand next to my bed. I turn my head away from the brightness and blink several times, waiting for my eyes to adjust. With a grunt I go to sit up but before I even get my shoulders off the mattress a hand is on my chest, pushing me back down. I glance over to see Sam seated next to me shaking his head at my efforts.

"Stay still, Dean. You need to relax after all the strain you've put yourself through." I roll my eyes at his mothering henning, but reluctantly sink back into the soft surface. We sit in silence for only a moment before my brother is speaking again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" My eyes narrow and I turn to him.

"Talk about what?"

"You know damn well what. You nearly lost it last night and I really don't want to have a repeat performance." I let out an exasperated sigh and frown.

"I am not having this conversation with you right now." I attempt to sit up again but the man across from me just pushes me back down.

"You have to talk about it sometime, why not now?"

"I don't HAVE to talk about anything Sam." A headache is starting to pound behind my eyes and I shake my head.

"Yes you do. If you don't let it out it's gonna drive you insane! Or do you wanna spend the rest of your life terrified that Dad is going to come back?" My hands clench into fists and I take a harsh breath.

"Shut the hell up." My brother ignores me and instead plows on.

"No. You know I'm right Dean. You barely sleep from the nightmares you keep having, you're constantly on edge, and you spend every second looking over you're shoulder. You're running yourself into the ground." Anger is slowly building in me and I shove Sam's hand away.

"Don't give me that speech Sammy. I'm done with everyone wanting me to open up, I'm done. So please, just stop asking." Silence settles over the room and for a moment I think I think that I can just ignore the events of last night. But all those hopes are dashed when the phones rings. I reach out and pick up the device before checking the number. My heart drops when I see the caller ID.

* * *

 _So that's it for Chalater Eight. I hope you loved it! As always reviews are welcome and appreciated and I just wanted to let you guys know that it is great to know y'alls thoughts on my stories._


	9. Chapter 9

_Hey guys! Sorry for the long update, I wasn't sure where I wanted this chapter to end. I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read this story. Ok enough chit chat, here's chapter nine!_

 _Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination_

* * *

Chapter Nine

My hands shake uncontrollably as I hold the phone in my palms, staring at the screen. John Winchester is displayed in bold letters across the device and I gaze at it, unable to move from the fear that's suddenly gripping me. Sam, who I had forgotten was even still in the room, takes a cautious step towards me.

"Who is it?" I can tell he already knows the answer, but I can't bring myself to reply. I stare, frozen, at the phone and I can feel the panic starting to well up inside me. My brother sees my reaction and moves closer.

"Dean. Who is it?" A ragged sigh escapes me and I finally mumble.

"Dad." My voice cracks and I hate that I couldn't even get the one word out without breaking. The phone continues to ring, the sound echoing through my skull.

"Hang up." Sam's angered tone meets my ears and, for a moment, I want to do just that. But I know that I can't. I have to put an end to this, I can't keep ignoring him. If I do then he'll just find another way to get to me, to Sam.

"No." My brother stares at me in shock.

"What?"

"If he's got the nerve to try and contact us after what he did, then I'm gonna make him pay for it." Without hesitation I answer the call and I slowly lift the phone to my ear. I don't make a sound, instead waiting for him to make the first move.

"Dean.." Rage fills me at the sound of his voice and I cut him off.

"What the hell do you want?" There's a pause on the other end and it takes everything in me not to just hang up, maybe I'll get lucky and he won't call back. Who am I kidding? When have I ever been that lucky? After a few seconds of tense silence, my father finally responds.

"Dean I need to apologize to you."

"No shit." I can hear the frustration in his voice when he speaks again.

"Just listen to me, boy. What happened that night, I wasn't myself. There was a demon and.." My heart leaps in my throats at the statement and a sliver of hope fills me, maybe my dad didn't have control when he attacked me.

"A demon? So you were possessed?" A sigh echoes over the line and I instinctively know that that wasn't the case.

"No." All of the hope fades away as he continues. "But the demon, he possessed my hunting partner, he made me believe that you were to blame for Sam's disappearance. I was so upset that he left that I thought he was right, I need someone to blame and you were the closest option." He pauses. "I was so torn up about Sam and he used that against me. You know that I would never think..."

"I don't wanna hear your excuses you bastard! I don't care that you were having a bad day, so was I, or that there was a damn demon with you. Don't you dare try and justify yourself to me. A father is supposed to take care of his kids, you know that and yet you still attacked me. You were one hundred percent in control of your actions, you alone made the decision to do what you did." My hands clench into fists and the phone digs into my palm painfully. "You made a choice, now you have to deal with the consequences." My dad's desperate voice fills my ears at my declaration.

"Dean I'm so sorry, what I did was wrong and..."

"You're damn right it was wrong!" I scream. "And you can spend all the time you want being sorry, but it's never gonna change anything. Ever."

"Dean please." His words are barely above a whisper and I clench my jaw in rage.

"No John," I don't call him Dad, he doesn't deserve that title. Not anymore. "No more excuses, no more apologies. Don't contact me again." With a grunt I slam the phone closes, effectively ending the call.

Rage consumes me. The bastard had the nerve to try and tell me that it wasn't his fault, that he wasn't to blame for what he did. My hands clench into fists and, with a shout, I hurl the cell across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud and I sink back down onto the mattress, trying to control the emotions that are threatening to spill out. Sam, who'd been fuming during the entire conversation, takes a seat next to me. He's careful not to jar any of my injuries as he sits close enough that our shoulders are touching. I drop my head into my hands and take a shaking breath, trying desperately to hold myself together.

I can't take much more of this. The beating, the nightmares, the panic attacks; it's all too much. My thoughts wander back to the man who started it all.

"I used to want to be just like that son of a bitch." I growl. "Now I'm ashamed that I even have to call him my dad."

"He stopped being our father the second he laid a hand on you, Dean." Silence settles over us and I close my eyes, trying to forget everything that's happened. The quiet stretches on for a few minutes before I speak again.

"You know, I honestly thought he was one of the good guys. Guess that says a lot about my judgement huh?" Sam sighs.

"He's our father Dean, there's no way you could've known what he'd do. You wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was one good thing in our lives. With all that we've been through, you deserved that much."

"Maybe." Or maybe not. If I idolized Dad as much as everyone thinks I did, then what's gonna stop me from becoming him? What's gonna stop me from hurting someone I love, from hurting Sammy? My brother seems to read my thoughts and he immediately shakes his head.

"You're not like him Dean, you never will be."

"How do you know that Sam? How do you know that I'm not gonna just lose it like he did?"

"Because you're my big brother. And I know you better than anyone. You're not gonna lose it, ok?" I reluctantly nod and he stands to his feet, motioning to the door.

"Come on, let's get you something to eat, you look like crap."

"Gee, thanks." When I don't make a move to follow him, he gives me a pleasing look.

"There's pie in the fridge." It's a last ditch effort to get me to go with him and for once pie doesn't sound appealing, but after everything we've been through I can't turn him down. I need to be strong, for Sammy.

"Ok." Carefully I rise to my feet and trudge towards the door where my brother is waiting. A weight visibly lifts from his shoulders at the movement and I can see little bit of the tension ebbing away from his features for the first time since I showed up at his dorm in the middle of the night. He shifts to the side in order to let me out of the room and I shuffle into the kitchen. Just the short walk has drained most of my energy and I collapse into the closest chair to me, breathing a little too hard for my liking. I snort at the realization. I've gone from sprinting down hallways while running from monsters without breaking a sweat, to almost passing out walking to the damn kitchen.

If Sam notices my discomfort, he doesn't show it. He simply walks to the fridge and pulls out an apple pie before setting it on the counter. My brother cuts two slices, puts each on a plate and walks over to me before handing the desert to me and keeping the other for himself.

"Thanks." As I take my first bite of the sweet food I can't help but smile. This is the closest I've been to happy since that night at the motel. There's no glancing over my shoulder waiting for my dad to bust down the door, or fighting through constant waves of agony. There's no worry, no fear. No, for these next few minutes, there's nothing except for me and my brother, enjoying probably the most normal meal we're ever gonna get.

* * *

The next few days pass by without much incident. There haven't been any more phone calls from Dad, well not to me at least, and I can actually breathe without feeling like my entire body is on fire. The three of us are still on high alert though, we can never afford to let our guard down, not with John out there waiting for us. Despite the warning I gave him I still can't shake the feeling that he'll try to pull something and, knowing that, I can't let myself relax.

Bobby and Sam have done their best to try and help me get past everything and I honestly think that they believe I am. They do their best to ignore the way I still flinch whenever they try to touch me or how I jump at every loud noise. Both of them think that it'll pass if I give it time, that they're the only remnants of what happened. But what they don't know is that nothing's changed. They don't know about the nightmares that still plague me every night, the cold sweats that I wake up to, or the screams and whimpers that rip from my throat when the dreams become too real. The knife that I keep clutched in my hand under my pillow escapes everyone's attention. They don't notice the way I avoid alcohol like it's a disease, terrified that if I take even one sip I'll turn into my Dad. That I'll become a monster just like him.

They think that everything is getting better, but they don't know about the horrors that play over and over in my mind. About the paralyzingly fear that grips me when I wake up every morning because I think that he'll be there, waiting. They don't notice because they want it to be ok, they want everything to go back to normal, for all the pain to go away. So I let them think that it has. I put on a fake smile and act as if the gunshot wound doesn't still pull painfully every time I move, or that the scars from the bottle no longer mar my skin. That the fading bruises didn't leave their mark forever on my once untainted skin. I put up my walls to set their minds at ease, to tell them that I'm pushing through. I bury my pain so they don't have to endure it with me, so they have to deal with the sleepless nights and panic filled days. I let them have the hope that everything is ok, the hope that was stolen from me the second my father's fist first connected with my body.

* * *

 _Well that's it for chapter nine! I hope you guys enjoyed it. Once again I'd like to apologize for the long update, I hope it was worth it. Reviews are welcome and appreciate._


	10. Chapter 10

_Hey guys! Sorry for the long update, again. I've been really busy lately but hopefully that will change soon. I won't keep you waiting any longer so here's chapter ten. I hope you like it._

 _disclaimer:I own nothing but my imagination._

* * *

Chapter Ten

I wake up in a cold sweat, the same reoccurring nightmare running rampant through my mind. The smell of blood still lingers in the air as I jolt up in my bed, frantically glancing around the room for any signs of an intruder. My breath comes in shallow gasps and I bring a shaking hand to my head, slowly running it through my hair. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head violently.

"It's not real." I choke out. "It's not real."

"Dean?" My heart stops when I realize that I'm not alone. I spin around so that I'm turned in the direction the voice came from and I end up face to face with Sam. Instinctively I back away from the close quarters with lightening speed, only stopping when I'm on the other side of the bed. My brother gives me a wary look.

"Calm down, it's just me." I roll my eyes at his words, the pity evident in his voice.

"Don't you know it's rude to watch people sleep, jeez." My lip twitches up in a fake smirk trying to distract him from asking about the mini freak out that he definitely just saw. Unfortunately it does little to quell his curiosity and he cocks his head to the side.

"Are you ok?" A scoff escapes me at his question. Do I look alright? But I don't say that of course, instead I play it off.

"I'm great. How are you Sammy?" He narrows his eyes.

"Dean you know what I meant." I shrug my shoulders and give him an innocent look.

"It's nothing." Sam glares.

"Seriously? You just woke up in a panic mumbling 'it's not real' and you wanna tell me that it's nothing?" I nod.

"Pretty much." I frown when he continues to stare at me. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry about it." With a grin I plop back down on the mattress, pulling the sheets up as I do so, and reach to turn off the lamp that had been left shining when I'd fallen asleep earlier. There's a few beats of silence before Sam speaks.

"You need to talk about it." I don't even have to guess what he's talking about.

"No I don't." I say as I roll over in bed so my back is facing him.

"Dean, you need to get it off your chest. The longer you keep it bottled up the more it's gonna haunt you."

"Good night Sam." I effectively cut him off and relief floods me when I hear his sigh as he settles back into the chair he's been sitting in. Slowly I even out my breathing so that it comes out in a regular rhythm, feigning sleep. I refuse to close my eyes because the second I do I'll be sucked back into that nightmare but it will at least ease Sam's worry if he thinks I'm passed out.

After a few minutes I hear him stand up and leave the room, thinking that I've drifted off. What he doesn't know is that there won't be any sleep for me, not for a long time. I can't afford to let my guard down, not when my dad is still a threat. I'm not gonna tell him that of course, I'll let him think that I'm well rested, no use in worrying him anymore. I won't be sleeping any time soon, the nightmares will make sure of that.

* * *

Four days. That's how long I've been fighting to stay awake, fighting to keep my guard up. Every time I close my eyes I see my dad, bloodied knuckles and a furious glint in his eye. My mind replays every blow, every slice as the man I trusted most attacks me over and over again.

I've managed to keep up the appearance that I'm sleeping at night by not standing close enough to Bobby or Sam that they see the way I sway slightly when I walk, or the dark circles under my eyes. It's worked pretty well for the past couple of days but now that I've been awake for over ninety-six hours straight, it getting harder and harder to hide.

As I stare into the bathroom mirror I can't help but wince at the sight. The skin on my face is pulled taunt from days of barely eating and sleep deprivation, making me look ten years older. The dark circles under my eyes look nearly black against my tired features and I know that sooner or later the "it's been a rough week" excuse is gonna stop working. My gaze roams down to my stomach where I can see the outline of the bandage through the thin fabric of my t-shirt and I frown.

I grab the hem of my shirt and slowly pull it up towards my chin, careful not to brush against the tender flesh of my abdomen. My eyes land on the black and blue roadmap of injuries that peek out underneath the bandages, bruises that should've nearly faded away by now instead stand out in stark contrast to my deathly pale skin. A sigh escapes me and I let the shirt fall back into place. As I continue to criticize my haggard appearance, there's a knock at the door and Sam's voice echoes from the hall.

"Dean, are you almost done in there?" I can hear the impatience in his tone and I quickly give myself another once over before pulling open the door to meet my brother.

"Yeah I'm good." My voice comes out slightly strained and weak from the lack of sleep and I quickly clear my throat, praying that it wasn't as noticeable as it sounded. Unfortunately for me it doesn't escape Sam's attention and a concerned look immediately overtakes his face.

"Hey are you ok?" I can't deal with this right now, maybe I can just play it off.

"Of course I am." His eyebrows knit together and he shakes his head.

"You look like crap, man." He says motioning to the bags under my eyes. "I thought you said you were feeling better."

"I am." Its obvious that he doesn't believe me.

"Then why do you look like you haven't slept in days?" I roll my eyes, ignoring the nausea that follows the action.

"Sammy I'm fine, it's just been..."

"A rough week." He finishes for me. I flash what I hope is a convincing grin and he narrows his eyes. For a moment I think he's gonna keep pushing, but his reluctant sigh proves otherwise. My brother moves to the side slightly so I can exit the doorway. Just before I have the chance to leave, his hand lands on my shoulder and I turn to him.

"You're sure you're ok?" I let out an exasperated exhale and nod.

"I'm fineeee." I draw out the word in annoyance and shake out of his grip. Without another word I head for the kitchen, completely intending to snag one of the burgers Sam and Bobby had started keeping in the fridge since my appetite had shown back up. The second I have the delicious food in my hand I toss it in the microwave and wait for it to heat up.

Soon the buzzer sounds and I hastily pull out the cheeseburger before taking a large bite, grinning at the familiar taste. I pull up one of the chairs at Bobby's table and plop down ready to enjoy the rest of my meal.

* * *

As I sit at the table, my lunch finished, I lean back in my chair comfortably. Exhaustion tugs at the edges of my mind but I refuse to give in, I'll only wake up in a few minutes from a nightmare anyway. The images from that night are still seared into my brain and I don't think I can handle reliving them again, no matter how much I want to get some rest.

 _Dean_

The hairs on the back of my neck bristle as the familiar voice breaks the silence and immediately I whirl around to face the source of the sound. I frantically search for the intruder, but I'm completely alone in the empty room.

 _Dean_

I spin in the direction of the voice, it sounds closer this time. My eyes roam over the kitchen looking for any signs that someone else is here with me but I find none. My muscles tense in anticipation as I wait for the owner of the voice to show his face. Once again my father's baritone accent floats through the air.

 _I'm here Dean. I'm coming for you_.

My heart hammers in my chest at the statement and I glance around wildly trying desperately to find out where my dad is hiding. I sprint to the doorway, checking both ends of the hall for signs of the man but I come up empty. With shaking knees I dash down the hall and into the living room, my muscles tensing in anticipation of the visitor whose voice echoes in my ears. I go to turn the corner but, due to my panicked frenzy, I don't see my brother standing directly in my path. By the time I notice him, it's to late.

With a shout I go barreling into the giant and send both of us tumbling to the floor. Sam's elbow drives into my stomach on impact, right into my stitches, and I feel all the air rush out of my lungs. He stares at me with wide eyes for a moment but he quickly recovers and helps me to my feet, careful to avoid all of my injuries. After a few minutes I'm able to catch my breath and my brother places a hand on my shoulder.

"Dean, what's going on?" I look at him in surprise.

"You didn't hear him?" Judging by the blank stare that he's giving me, I already know the answer.

"Hear who?" The lack of sleep must be getting to me, I'm freaking hearing things. With a sigh I raise a weary hand to my face and shake my head.

"No one." Sam cocks his head to the side.

"Are you ok? You seem really out of it." I brush his concern off and nod.

"Yeah I'm fine Sammy. Just a little wound up I guess." I offer him a grin and he takes a step back, removing his hand from my shoulder in the process.

"You're sure you're ok?"

"Yes Mom, I'm just great." He narrows his eyes. "I promise." My brother puts his hands up in surrender and shakes his head.

"If you say so." I brush past him and continue into the living room, discretely giving the space a once over before taking a seat on the couch. I can feel Sam's gaze on my back and I know he's suspicious, the mini freak out I just had didn't help that much. I just hope I can keep this charade up long enough to deal with this so that I don't have to keep lying to him. No matter how hard I try he's eventually gonna figure what's going on, but by then all of this will be over. I hope

* * *

 _So that's it for chapter Ten! I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if this chapter's kinda short but this seemed like a good stopping point. I'd like to thank everyone who's read or reviewed this story, it means so much. I really appreciate all of you guys and I'd love it if y'all would keep telling me your thoughts on the story!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the long update. I've been camping for the past two weeks and haven't had any internet, so I've been unable to update. But I'm back so...yeah._

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

* * *

Chapter Eleven

My breathing comes in shallow, ragged gasps as I sit on the floor with my back against the wall and my knees pulled to my chest, glancing around the room. My eyes land on the digital clock by my bed and I just make out the time through the blurry haze that has settled over my vision. 1:00 a.m. I rest my head on my arms and try to calm my racing heart, but nothing's working. I try humming everything from Some Kind of Monster to Knockin' on Heaven's Door but all that does is remind me of the man I'm hiding from, he's due anytime now.

He's become a regular visitor over the past two days, but I can't just hear him anymore, I can actually see him. I can hear his footsteps as he walks down the halls, feel his iron grip as he glares down at me, I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he tells me over and over how worthless I am. I guess he figured that he can't haunt my dreams since I'm not sleeping, then he'd just have to terrorize me when I'm awake. So this is what it's come to. Me, sitting alone in the dark, scared out of my wits and hiding from something that isn't even there.

My heart stops when I hear the heavy, booted footsteps echoing down the hallway, their loud thuds matching the rhythm of my racing heart. I listen as they get closer and closer, my whole body shaking in fear of the monster that lurks in the shadows. The tips of his shoes are the first thing I see in the dim light, freshly cleaned to remove the blood that stained them from the night in the hotel. My gaze travels up until it lands on his weathered face, a disgusted frown marring his features.

"Hello again, Dean." He snarls. The darkness casts ugly shadows across his face, making him look every bit the monster that he's become.

"Get away from me!" I press my back farther into the wall, hoping that somehow I can just fall through into another room. My dad steps out of the doorway and into the room, reaching into his pocket as he advances towards me.

"What's the matter, Dean? Are you scared?" I clench my hands into fists in an attempt to stop the shaking, trying in vain to conceal my terror. In a few short strides, John is standing only two feet from me. He kneels down, knife in hand, so he's just inches from my face. "You should be."

Suddenly the knife is embedded into the wall next to my head, close enough to nick my skin and draw blood. The weapon is buried up to the hilt and John wrenches it free from the wood, tracing it along my jawline with a menacing grin. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to control my breathing, it's not real. None of this is real. The words repeat over and over in my head until it's almost like a mantra, but it doesn't stop the horror that surrounds me. My father brings the blade down to the bandages that envelope my stomach, eyes alight with a terrifying fire.

"How's that gunshot feeling, kiddo? Is it healing up nice?" Without warning he jams the weapon into my midsection, twisting it painfully. Agony seizes my abdomen and I bite back a scream. I stare down at the wound, watching as blood gushes from the area. By this point I'm nearly hyperventilating and I shake my head. It's not real! John pushes the knife in further and I feel it pierce my back. With a grunt I reach forward and grip the handle.

"You're not real." Slowly I begin to pull the weapon out of my body, watching as the image of my dad flickers slightly. All of a sudden it feels like there's a ton of bricks on top of the blade as he pushes back against my grip.

"I'm as real as it gets kid." My eyes narrow and I shake my head. Using the rest of my strength I fight for control.

"Get out of my head!" With one final shove, I send him sprawling across the floor and I remove the weapon.

I watch with relief as John slowly fades and disappears, leaving me alone once again. I glance down at my stomach and am not surprised when I see clean, white bandages there. With a huff I lift my trembling form to my feet and lean against the wall, trying to get my breathing back under control. It takes a few minutes for me to regain my composure and I'm finally able to start making my way over to the bed. I sit down carefully as not to jostle my injuries and flip the lamp on, tired of the darkness. It's at that moment that Sam decides to make an appearance.

He steps into the room and his eyes immediately fall on my weary form. Without hesitating he comes to my side.

"Dean what are you doing up?" I don't have a good answer to that, so I just keep quiet. Sam sighs and stands up. "You need to get some rest." He starts to pull the sheets back on the bed and motions for me to lie down. I shake my head.

"'M not tired." Even I don't miss the slight slur in my words brought on by exhaustion and I know he did too.

"Bullshit." My brother puts a hand on my shoulder and tries to push me down onto the mattress, but I shake out of his grip. His face turns serious. "Dean you can't keep going like this." I make a show of rolling my eyes, trying to hide the truth behind his words.

"Sammy I'm fi.." That's when he explodes, cutting me off in the process.

"Don't you dare tell me you're fine! I'm you're brother, don't you think I can tell that something's wrong? I tried to give you time to work this out on your own, I really did, but it's gone too far." I can tell he's not gonna let this go but I can't talk about it, not now. I stand from my spot on the bed and try to walk away.

"I'm not having this conversation." Sam reaches out and grabs my arm.

"Dean you have to talk about this." I offer him a simple shrug.

"No I don't." I say matter-of-factly. My brother lets out and exasperated sigh and stands up, keeping a firm hold on my left arm.

"Come on man. You look like you haven't slept in a week, you're constantly on edge, and don't think that I haven't heard you screaming every night since it happened. This is killing you!"

"I'm fine Sam!" I wrench my arm free and turn my back to him, hoping to end the discussion. Unfortunately my brother never has been one to,take a hint, so he plows on.

"No, you aren't, you're losing your mind. Our dad, the man that you put all your faith in, nearly beat you to death and I know that's not something you just brush off. "I clench my hands into fists trying to quell the anger that's starting to build at his words. "You're hurting, but you're either too stubborn to let me help you or too scared to admit that you're not unbreakable, no matter how much you want to be. You're broken, Dean, and you're the only one who can't see it." Something in me snaps at his last statement and I whirl around.

"Shut the hell up!" Before I can stop myself I lash out, punching Sam right in the nose. He stumbles back, hurt written clearly on his face. My eyes widen and I take a step back, I just hit him. Realization hits me. I'm just like Dad. I feel sick at the thought and I shake my head in denial.

"I'm sorry Sammy." My voice comes out in a broken whisper and I stumble out the door, not daring to look my little brother in the eye. Nausea overwhelms me and I feel like I'm gonna hurl.

I throw the bathroom door open and tumble in, slamming it shut behind me. I gag as I click the lock into place and I barely make it to the toilet before the meager contents of my stomach make a reappearance. My abdomen screams in agony from the violent retching and I stifle a cry. Sweat drips down my face and I grip the porcelain in an iron grip. Soon there's nothing left to throw up and I just sit there dry heaving for a few minutes. After a while I lean back on my heels and shake my head in disgust. I stare down at my hand, the one that I just used to hit my baby brother. The knuckles are scraped slightly and I know that Sam's gonna have one hell of a shiner tomorrow, and it's all because of me. I did the one thing I promised myself I'd never do, I hurt Sammy. I'm just like Dad, I'm a monster. I choke back a sob and press my palms against my eyes, attempting to regain control over my emotions.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts and I glance up, already knowing who it is. Soon my brother's voice fills the air.

"Dean?" I don't make a sound, instead deciding to press my back against the bathroom wall and try to drown him out. "Dean I know you're in there, just open the door." Again I don't respond and I can hear his sigh in the hallway. It's not long before I hear scraping noises and I know he's picking the lock. Before he can open it I pull my knees up to my chest and burry my head in my hands, effectively cutting myself off. Seconds later the door is swinging open and I can hear my brother's loud footsteps as he comes to stand beside me. He kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder, I resist the urge to flinch away.

"Dean." He shakes my shoulder gently. "Dean look at me." I press my head harder into my hands and he sighs. He tries to pry my palms away and, due to my weakened state, he succeeds. Immediately I look as far away from him as possible, refusing to even glance his way.

"Please don't do this, not now. Don't shut me out." I clench my jaw, not saying a word. He reaches out and puts a hand on my cheek, trying in vain to get me to acknowledge him, but I refuse to meet his eyes, too ashamed of what I've done. Finally figuring out that I'm not going to speak, he lets out a defeated huff. Slowly he stands to his feet, pulling me up with him. I go to take a step but, thanks to all the vomiting I just did, all of my energy has been sapped from my body and I nearly fall. Sam barely catches me and in an instant he has one of my arms around his shoulders and one of his around my waist. He carefully drags/carries me back to the bedroom and lays me down on the bed.

Even during this whole ordeal I never once made eye contact with my brother, instead deciding to stare at the floor. The second my body touches the mattress I turn my back to him, not uttering a sound.

"You're welcome." I can tell by his tone that my silence is hurting him, but I don't have a choice. After what I did I don't deserve to even call myself his brother, let alone speak to him. So I just bury my face in the pillow. I don't even try to pretend that I plan on sleeping, Sam already knows that I'm not. Instead I reach for the lamp and switch it off, letting the blackness consume me. After all, monsters live in the dark.

* * *

Sam's POV

Dean hasn't spoken in two days. He hasn't said even a peep to Bobby or me since he punched me, hell we're lucky if we get a grunt out of him. Every now and then Bobby will get a nod or a shake of the head out of him, but it's mostly just a blank stare. As for me, he won't even look in my direction, especially since I've got a black eye. Every time I look at him I know he's punishing himself in any way he can think of, in his mind he deserves it.

He stopped eating again, not even a cheeseburger peaks his interest. Bobby's managed to get one glass of water in him since he quit talking and even then it took him half an hour just to accept the beverage, let alone drink it. If he keeps going at this rate we're gonna have to take him to a hospital, which he's gonna hate, not that he'll have the strength to fight back without any food in his system anyway. If he doesn't get better soon, he could die.

His appearance has gotten worse too. He's insanely pale and covered in bruises, at this point if you look at him wrong another one pops up because he's so malnourished. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks like death warmed over. Plus Dean's still not sleeping, trust me I would know. I've spent the last two nights sitting next to his bed, waiting for the other shoes to drop and for him to just pass out from sheer exhaustion. But somehow he just sits there, looking at anything but me, wide awake. Every night around one in the morning he jumps up from the bed, staring frantically at the doorway, and holds his knife clutched tightly in his hand. After a few minutes he visibly relaxes, though he's still on edge, and sits back down on the bed.

He's really starting to worry me and I don't know what to do. I've tried everything to try and snap him out of it, but it's not working. He just closes himself off and refuses to even acknowledge me. I'm running out of options. I look over at the table where's he's currently sitting and can't help the feeling of hopelessness that settles over me. My big brother, the big strong Dean Winchester, reduced to nothing but a shell of the man he used to be. I need him to be ok, to go back to normal. Without him I...I don't know what I'd do. I have to help him through this. With renewed determination I take a seat across from my brother.

"Dean." I'm not surprised when I don't get a response. "Dean please look at me." Again I'm ignored. "You're really scaring me, man. You've gotta snap out of it, I need you to snap out of it, ok?" My heart sinks when my words have no effect. "Damn it Dean! Don't you get it? If you don't do something soon, you are going to DIE. You're shutting me out because you hurt me, well what do you think is gonna happen if you die because of me? Huh? Do you think that I'm just gonna shed a couple tears and move on?" I stand up and move over to his chair, placing both my hands on his shoulders. "I'm falling apart without you! I need my brother back! You think your only job is to protect me, well you're wrong. Your job is to be my big brother, and you can't do that if you spend what little will be left of your life sitting in that damn chair killing yourself over a stupid argument!" My heart pounds in my chest and it takes everything in me not to scream when the man in front of me hardly even bats an eye at my speech. I lower my voice, hoping to somehow reach him.

"I already lost Dad, don't make me lose you too. Please Dean, I can't do this alone." It's barely even noticeable, I probably wouldn't have even seen it if I wasn't looking. The corner of my brother's mouth quirks up ever so slightly, not even enough to be considered a smirk, but it's the best thing I've seen all day. I give his shoulder a gentle squeeze and suddenly it's like all the clarity returns to his eyes and he turns to me. Dean stares at me for a moment as if he's seeing me for the first time in a while but he doesn't open his mouth. I'm about to lose hope when, finally, he speaks.

"Sammy?"

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 _So that's it for chapter Eleven! Hope you guys enjoyed it. Once again I'd like to apologize for the long update, but it couldn't be helped. I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed this story, it means so much to me. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Thank you for reading_


	12. Chapter 12

_Hey guys! Sorry for the long update but I've been out of town again, hopefully everything will slow down soon. Anyway, lots of brotherly love in this chapter so yeah. no slash._

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination

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Chapter Twelve

"Sammy?" I croak. My voice strains painfully from the days of silence and I wince, but immediately try to hide my discomfort from the man in front of me. Luckily, he decides to let it slide for the moment.

"Oh thank God!" In an instant my brother has his arms wrapped around me in a crushing grip, unintentionally putting painful pressure on my stomach, but I return the hug anyway. After a few seconds I pat him on the shoulder.

"Ok enough with the chick-flick moment, Sammy." Slowly he pulls away and offers me an amused smile. As soon as I'm able to get a look at his face my gaze immediately lands on the black bruise that surrounds his left eye and I'm reminded of the reason why I stopped talking. A frown tugs at the corners of my lips and I look down, once again ashamed. My brother instantly notices the change in my mood and puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Dean." He's about to continue but I cut him off.

"I'm so sorry Sammy." I glance up at him and he lets out a tired sigh.

"It's ok Dean, I brought it on by saying everything that I did. I shouldn't have pushed you like that, you weren't ready" I scoff.

"It doesn't matter whether I was ready or not, I promised that I would never hurt you and that's exactly what I did. But hey, I screw up everything else, so why would I get that right? I failed you Sammy, just like I've failed everyone else." Sam is taken aback by my words and he takes a second to recover.

"Is that really what you think?" I don't answer, but my silence speaks volumes. He shakes his head. "Dean you've never failed me, in fact you're the only one who's always been there for me. You've always been the one I can count on and don't you ever forget that." He motions to his eye. "And as for that punch you threw, all is forgiven. In fact, there's nothing to be forgiven for." I sigh and run a hand through my hair, looking away from him.

"I just...I thought that I was starting to act just like Dad. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let myself hurt you again."

"Dean look at me." At first I ignore his request but he reaches out and lifts my chin so that I don't have a choice. "You will never be like Dad, ever. He is an abusive son of a bitch who thought that he could rule our lives forever." He puts a hand on my shoulder gently. "And you're my big brother. The guy who used to go and get Christmas presents for me when Dad wasn't home, who told me stories when I couldn't sleep because I was scared of the things that went bump in the night, who drove me to the emergency room on the handlebars on his bike when I broke my arm, and the one who pulled me out of a burning building when I was six months old. You're not like Dad, you're not a monster. You're a hero."

I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off of my shoulders at his words and I open my mouth to respond, but suddenly exhaustion hits me like a freight train. My body dips forward involuntarily and I throw a hand out to steady myself, nearly falling on Sam as I do so. He reaches out and puts his hands on my shoulders, keeping me upright. I fight to keep my eyes open, blinking sluggishly, and he shakes his head.

"Ok it's definitely time for you to get some sleep." With a nod I go to stand but as soon as I try I stumble and almost fall, running into my brother. He immediately grabs my arm and throws it around his shoulder before wrapping his around my waist.

"Easy there big guy, let me help you." With a grunt he hauls me to my feet and begins to lead me toward the bedroom. I try to lighten the load a little by attempting to stand on my own, but in the end I just end up leaning heavily against Sam so he's carrying most of my weight. I stumble again and we almost have an up close and personal meeting with the floor, but somehow Sam manages to hold us up, barely. By the time we make it to the door both of us are breathing harshly and I know that we won't make it much longer. Without hesitation my brother basically drags me to the bed, dropping me on the mattress as soon as we're close enough.

I had every intention of passing smooth out as soon as I got the opportunity, but the second my body touches the mattress I'm reminded of why I've stayed awake for days on end. Bloody images flash through my mind and I jolt upright, suddenly wide awake, and try to stand up. Sam immediately reaches out to stop me.

"Dean! Dean calm down!" I push and shove against his chest trying to get away, my breath coming in short gasps. I can't face the nightmares, not again. My attempts become more desperate when I can't get free and I throw all of my remaining strength, however weak it may be, in one final shove. A strangled cry escapes me when it does little to dislodge my brother's firm grip and I start to panic. I'm nearly hyperventilating and I can feel my strength fading.

Suddenly Sam wraps his arms around me in a sort of bear hug, rendering me unable to move.

"Dean stop! It's ok, just calm down!" By this point I don't know whether I'm too tired or to weak to continue fighting against his hold and I sag against him, completely drained. I can hear his sigh of relief. "There you go. Take it easy, you need to rest." He moves to try to get me to lie back down but I shake my head.

"I can't." He rolls his eyes, obviously tired of the routine.

"Quit trying to punish yourself, man. Everything's ok. Now please just go to sleep." Somehow I manage to wriggle away from him and sit up on the other end of the bed.

"Sammy you don't understand. I can't." My voice is barely above a whisper and I hate how weak and vulnerable it sounds. For a moment I hope that he didn't hear me, didn't hear how broken I sound, but by the look on his face I know that he does.

"Dean what are you talking about?" A mixture of emotions pass through his eyes; pity, sympathy, sorrow and I suddenly find it impossible to hold myself together.

"I can't go to sleep because to sleep I have to close my eyes, and when I close my eyes I see it. I see Dad stumbling across that hotel room screaming at me, I see his fists flying at me. I see the bloodthirsty look in his eyes, how much he was enjoying it." A single tear slips down my face and I hastily wipe it away. "Every time I shut my eyes I watch my world come crashing down. I can't go through that again, not now, not ever." I put my head in my hands. "I just keep waiting for him to come back, to finish what he started." Sam shakes his head.

"Dad's not gonna come back. He's miles away, probably trying to get as far away from us as possible. He's nowhere near us..." I cut him off.

"He's everywhere Sammy, I can't get away from him!" I jump up from my spot on the bed and start pacing the room. "I can't get him out of my head! I can hear his voice when I walk down the halls, I can feel the pain when he hits me or stabs me or whatever the hell else his twisted mind has decided that I deserve. And I can't..." I look down at my hands and see that they're shaking uncontrollably. My breath hitches and I wrap my arms around my midsection in an attempt to stop the trembling. "I can't take it anymore." Suddenly it's like every single thing that I've been running from, my dad, the nightmares, everything, it all hits me like a freight train. I fall apart.

My knees give out and I fall to the floor, landing on my hands and knees. I sit back on my heels and put my face in my hands in a desperate attempt to hold back the tears that have started to pool in my eyes. My whole body trembles in exhaustion and fear and I'm barely holding it together. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I don't even have to look to know that it's Sam. I glance up to see that he's sitting directly across from me, a single tear slip down his cheek. I look away trying to get my emotions under control, I have to be strong, I can't let him see me like this. I'm about to stand, to try and hide my pain behind the steel walls that I've built around myself, but suddenly my brother pulls me into a hug and for once I don't object. He wraps his arms protectively around me and I lean against him, too exhausted to do anything else.

"Let it go, brother." With those four simple words, I crumble. The tears that I've been trying to hold back fall down my face in a sorrow-filled stream and I don't even waste time attempting to wipe them away. I choke back a cry and clutch my brother tightly, desperately needing the support. I rest my forehead against his shoulder. After more than a week of keeping my emotions bottled up, I can't hold anything back. Sobs wrack my body and it goes against everything I've been taught my entire life to let my little brother see me like this. But I can't hide this anymore, I can't just keep running from it. So I sit, a sobbing mess, holding on to him for dear life knowing that he's the only one who will ever see this. That he's the only one who I'll trust to see this.

After what seems like forever, the sobbing slows to an occasional whimper and the trembling stops. Tears no longer flow freely down my cheeks, I don't have any left. I just sit leaning against Sam, completely drained. I barely have the energy to speak as I look up at my brother.

"Sammy..." He shakes his head.

"It's ok Dean." I try to offer him one of my signature grins but, thanks to the whole sleep deprivation thing, I barely get the corner of my mouth to tip up. He's smiles at me, obviously amused. "Go to sleep, man." I'm about to protest but he cuts me off. "I'm right here, I've got you. Get some sleep." Honestly I don't think I could've stayed awake if I tried, but somehow having my brother there made fading into unconsciousness just a little bit easier.

* * *

I wake up slowly and glance around. I'm still leaning against Sam, who's sleeping like a baby, only now it's dark in the room. How long was I out? With sluggish movements I move away from him and crawl towards the digital clock sitting on the nightstand. 1:00 a.m. Alarm bells immediately start going off in my head. Suddenly I hear footsteps down the hall and my heart starts to race. _No_. I look up just in time to see my dad standing in the doorway, a bloodthirsty smile on his face.

* * *

 _Well that's it for chapter twelve! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Again I'm sorry for the long update but it couldn't be helped. Reviews are welcome and appreciated._


	13. Chapter 13

_Hey guys! Sorry for the long update but I had a little bit of trouble getting this chapter to come out like I wanted it to. Anyway, here's chapter thirteen. I hope you like it._

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination_

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Chapter Thirteen

 _No_. I throw myself into a sitting position, instantly on guard at the sight of my father standing in the doorway. The motion wakes Sam, who I'd previously been leaning against, and he starts to stir. The second my brother moves John's eyes land on him, as if noticing him for the first time. His gaze lights up at the sight.

"Ah, so Sammy will get to watch me punish you today. Good, maybe it'll teach him a lesson. Or..." He takes a step forward. "Maybe it's his turn." My heart stops.

"Don't touch him!" I shift myself over so that I'm now in between John and my brother.

Apparently my outburst finally snaps Sam out of his slumber and into reality, he sits up with a jolt. He frantically glances around the room, searching for the source of my sudden command. My dad smiles as the confusion settles on his face when he doesn't find what he's looking for.

"Dean, what's going on? Who're you talking to?" I turn to him, bewildered.

"He's right there!" I point at the man standing only ten feet from us, clear as day. Unfortunately Sam just shakes his head.

"Dean there's no one there." Anger is slowly starting to build from his utter lack of understanding.

"Are you serious?! He's right there!"

"Who?"

"Dad!" I motion wildly at the figure in front of me. John's grin widens as he moves closer. I immediately scoot back, pushing Sam in the same direction as I do so. My dad leans forward.

"Don't you get it Dean? It's just you and me." I watch, horrified, as he pulls out a broken bottle and waves it threateningly in front of my face. "Oh this is going to be fun."

"No stop, please." I plead, but my voice lands on deaf ears, and he continues. Just as he's about to begin, I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn to see Sam, realization written across his face.

"He's not real. He's not here." I shake my head, glancing back at the man ahead of us, the one who won't hesitate to kill both of us. My brother reaches out and grabs my face in his hands, forcing me to turn my attention back to him. "Listen to me, you're imagining this. It's all in your head Dean, now snap out of it." I open my mouth to speak but all of a sudden it's like all of the air is being forced out of my lungs. My eyes widen and I look down at the cord that's appeared around my throat, pulled tight enough to keep me from drawing in a breath. I can hear my father's malicious laugh behind me as I claw at the material trying desperately to free myself.

Upon seeing my predicament Sam reaches forward and attempts to pry my hands away from my neck in order to get a better look. I gasp for air and I can see black dots dancing across my vision threatening to overwhelm me. My brother shakes his head.

"Dean?! Dean! You've gotta snap out of it man." I reach forward and grab his arm, pleading with him.

"Sammy..." I cough, on the verge of passing out. I can't continue because of the lack of oxygen so I just stare up at him, silently begging him to help me. The world is slowly fading and I can feel myself slipping away. My grip on Sam's arm loosens and I go slack in his arms, falling onto the floor. I watch as fear creeps onto his face.

"No, Dean!" He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. "Don't do this to me! It's not real, it's not real!" With all of my remaining strength I lift my head, still struggling to breathe, and choke out.

"Can't...stop him...Sam." I pull weakly against the cord around my neck but it doesn't do any good. "He'll...always come...back." I let my head fall back, hitting the hard floor with a thud, ready to succumb to the darkness that's tugging at me. Sam shakes his head.

"No, he's not coming back. I won't let him." He puts his hand on my arm. "I told you that I'd never let Dad hurt you again. I made a promise, Dean, and I intend to keep it." Suddenly it's like something clicks into place and I realize...he's right. Dad's not here, it's just me and my brother. The pressure on my throats lessens at the thought and I glance up to see the image of John flicker. I glare at him and slowly force myself to sit up. It's just me and Sammy. With one last hate-filled look my father fades and disappears, leaving me alone with my brother. The second the "cord" is gone I suck in huge lungfuls of air and turn to the man next to me. Once I've caught my breath I offer him a weak smile.

"Just you and me, Sammy." A relieved sigh escapes him and he pulls me into a hug, I don't have the heart or the energy to ward off the chick-flick moment.

"Just you and me." He mumbles. After a minute he pulls away, eyeing me warily. "You ok?" I nod slowly.

"I will be."

* * *

TEN WEEKS LATER

It's been three months since that night in the motel room and things are finally starting to get back to normal, or as normal as it gets for us. The nightmares have subsided, I'm down to one or two a week now. It's ridiculous honestly, saying that only being scared out of your wits by dreams of your father beating you once or twice a week is a good thing, but it's just the cards I got dealt I guess.

All of my injuries have healed, they only give me trouble every now and then. The scars are still there though, reminding me of what I lost every time I look in the mirror. I've learned never to look in the glass without a shirt on, the ugly white lines and bullet-shaped splotch too painful a memory to confront every morning. I ignore them most of the time, choosing to instead focus on getting back into shape. I'm still on the thinner side but I'm doing my best to get my weight back up, and most of my muscle is back so I can't really complain. I look better at least, I'm no longer a dead man walking.

We haven't seen John since he shot me, but that doesn't mean we haven't heard from him. He sends letters every Tuesday, he has been for over two months now, trying to make up for all the crap he did I guess. They're mostly just worthless apologies and regret, saying that he's sorry and he doesn't deserve forgiveness but he wants it, but it's too little too late. I honestly don't know why I even read them, they're always the same, but no matter how much I want to I can't bring myself to throw them out. I don't know why but it's like I have to hear what he has to say, like I'm searching for some kind of answer. Deep down I know that I'll never find one but I can't keep myself from looking, hoping that one day it'll all make sense.

As I sit here pouring over the ink-covered pages, I can't help the twinge of sadness that's settled in my stomach. With every word scrawled across the crumpled papers, I can't help but dwell on the what-ifs. What if Sammy hadn't picked that exact day to leave? What if I'd done more to find him? What if I'd tried harder? Maybe then John wouldn't have hit me, maybe things would be back to normal. Maybe we'd still be a family, not just a shattered memory of what we used to be. Maybe...there are just too many maybes. I've learned to live with everything that happened, there's nothing that I could've done to change it. That doesn't mean that I still don't beat myself up over it almost every day, it's just that now it's more out of regret than anything else.

I hold the latest letter in my fist, hands shaking, staring at the date. It's from last week, we haven't gotten one since then. The only problem, it's Friday. He's late. John hasn't been late writing us once in the past two months and, despite how much I hate him, I can't keep the slight sorrow that fills me. I guess that I'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, the letters would eventually lessen the pain he'd caused. Turns out they're just another disappointment that my father seems to have conjured up.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. I glance up from the pile of papers to Sam and Bobby, who're sitting in the living room.

"You expecting anybody?" Singer shakes his head. With a grunt he stands from his position on the couch and crosses the room, stopping at the entrance. He tosses us a suspicious look before grabbing the knob and opening the door slightly, but only enough to get a look at who's outside. Once he discovers the identity of our visitors he opens the door open fully, revealing a man and woman dressed in police uniforms. The man is about six foot with dark hair and the beginnings of a beard, while the woman is barely 5'5 with blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. The man turns to Bobby.

"Are you Robert Singer?" Bobby eyes them warily before nodding. I stand from my seat, Sam doing the same, and slowly head to the doorway.

"Is something wrong, officers?" The man, who's name tag identifies him as Hanson, turns to me.

"Depends. Are you two Sam and Dean?" I clench my jaw, worried about where this conversation might be headed. In spite of my concern I find myself nodding.

"Yes." I take a step closer. "Why?" Hanson glances down at the woman, Andrews, and sighs. Sam tenses at their hesitation and clenches his fists.

"What's going on?" Andrews' shoulders sag.

"You're John Winchester's boys aren't you?" I let out an exasperated sigh and nod.

"Yes, I believe we've covered that." I grind out. "Now tell me, what the hell is going on?" The officers glance at each other before Hanson motions to the couch.

"You might want to sit down." My patience with these two is growing thin and I shake my head.

"I'm fine where I'm at. Now if you could tell us why you're here, that'd be great." I try my best to keep the annoyance out of my tone but, if the elbow to the ribs that I get from Sam is any indication, it's probably pretty obvious. After a few tense seconds of silence, Hanson speaks.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you boys this but there's been an accident." He pauses, giving Sam and I a sympathetic look. "Your father's dead."

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 _Well that's it for chapter thirteen! I hope you liked it. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story. Reviews are welcome and appreciated_


	14. Chapter 14

_Hey guys. Honestly I'm not even gonna apologize for the long update, I'm starting to sound like a broken record. I'm pretty certain this is the last chapter. anyway on to chapter 14, I hope you like it!_

 _disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination._

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Chapter Fourteen

I feel like I've been sucker punched at the words and I stumble back a step, trying to process what they said. I try to ignore the growing knot in my stomach as Officer Andrews gives Sam and I a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry boys. I know this isn't easy." Sam, who seems almost unfazed by the news, speaks up.

"What happened?" There's no emotion in his voice, which earns him a suspicious glance from Hanson. He gives my brother a once over before answering.

"As I said earlier, there was an accident. Your father lost control of his car and drove off the end of a bridge." The knot in my stomach intensifies as he describes the scene and I can feel a headache forming behind my eyes. I lift a hand to my head and grunt.

"You ok son?" Hanson's voice echoes through the room and I glance up to see everyone staring at me. I wave them off.

"I'm fine." He cocks his head to the side, clearly concerned.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should..." I cut him off.

"I said I'm fine." The man backs off but suddenly there's a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Sam, worry clear in his features.

"Dean maybe you should sit down." I can tell by his tone and the look he's giving me that he's worried about my injuries, he still doesn't think I'm a hundred percent yet, but doesn't want to clue the officers in on what happened. At the reminder of what Dad did, a phantom pain ignites in my abdomen and I instinctively put my hand over the old gunshot wound. My brother immediately notices my discomfort and fixes me with a glare.

Andrews clears her throat and draws my attention away from the man in front of me. She turns to Sam.

"Maybe your brother would be more comfortable sitting on the couch." She motions toward the living room.

"Actually I think he would." I shake my head.

"No I..." Sam lets out an exasperated sigh before grabbing my arm and basically dragging me to the couch. He gives me another glare and I roll my eyes, plopping down on the cushions. Bobby, Hanson, and Andrews have taken seats around the room, the two officers eyeing us warily. I look away from them, rubbing my temples in an attempt to lessen the pressure there.

I don't know why I'm reacting like this, especially after what Dad did to me. Hell, I should be relieved that he's dead but for some reason I feel like this weight has settled on my shoulders, threatening to crush me. I'm pulled from my thoughts when Sam nudges me with his elbow. It's then that I realize that officer Hanson is speaking to me. He stops mid sentence.

"Are you sure you're alright?" My hands clench into fists, I swear if they ask me that one more time I'm gonna start throwing punches.

"I'm fine." I grind out. He gives me a skeptical look before turning to my brother.

"Can I talk to you and Mr. Singer." He glances at me. "Alone." Sam starts to protest but I put a hand on his arm.

"It's fine." At first I think he's going to resist but eventually he nods and stands to his feet, Bobby doing the same. Sam throws me one last look before following Officer Hanson out of the room. As soon as they're gone, Andrews takes a seat across from me much to my dismay. I can feel the pity radiating from her. Her gaze bores into me and, after a few moments of tense silence, I sigh.

"Is there something you wanna say?" She shifts uncomfortably before nodding.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about your dad."

"I've heard." These empty apologies are getting real old real quick. Her shoulders sag slightly at my sharp tone.

"I want you to know that I know how hard this is for you..." I interrupt her, my hands clenching into fists.

"Stop acting like you know me." I'm sick of her pretending that we're old friends or something. Andrews shrugs.

"I read your file. I might not know you, Dean, but I know a lot about you. I know that your brother Sam is the only family you've got left. I know that you've lived with your dad since your mom died.." My head snaps up, anger boiling in me.

"Don't you dare bring her into this." I spit, effectively cutting her off. She puts her hands up in surrender, pausing a minute before continuing.

"I know that for a long time Sam and your dad were all that you had. And I know that having something like that ripped from you, it's hard. I just want you to know that I understand." I shake my head.

"Trust me, you don't." Andrews sighs.

"Look, I've been where you are..."

"For your sake, I really hope you haven't." She gives me an almost surprised look and is about to speak when Sam, Bobby, and Hanson re-enter the room. My brother's posture is extremely tense and I can tell by the way he's wringing his hands he's pretty shaken up, which automatically puts me on edge. "Sam?" Instead of answering me he turns to officer Andrews.

"I think it's time for you two to leave." Andrews stares at him for a moment before nodding knowingly and standing. She stands and joins Hanson before following him to the door. They give the three of us one last glance before leaving. As soon as they're gone I turn to Sam.

"What's going on? What did he say?" My brother looks at Bobby for a minute and, after a nod from the older man, he comes to sit next to me on the couch. Without a word he pulls out a sealed envelope and hands it to me. Cautiously I take it from him and advert my gaze to the cover. Both of our names are scrawled across the white surface in black ink, one look at the splotchy lettering tells me that it's Dad's handwriting. "What is this?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper and I feel my brother tense beside me. After a few seconds of silence he sighs.

"Apparently, driving off that bridge wasn't an accident." My heart drops at his words and I glance at him.

"Sam, this isn't..." I can't even bring myself to finish the sentence.

"It's Dad's suicide note." He clears his throat. "The cops found it at the motel where he was staying. That's what Hanson gave to me in the other room, he could tell that you were pretty drained and he didn't know how you would react. He wanted me to look at it but I didn't want to read it without you." I let out a trembling sigh and stare at the envelope. My brother puts a hand on my shoulder. "If you wanna wait, it's ok." I shake my head.

"No. I need to do this now, or I'll never do it at all." I suck in a breath and turn the letter over, hands shaking, and rip open the seal. Slowly I reach inside and pull out a piece of paper, it's surface covered in carefully written letters. With a sigh I raise the note to the light so the two of us can read it.

 _Dear Sam and Dean,_

 _This letter isn't to ask for your forgiveness, I know that I'll never deserve that after what I did to you. I'm not trying to make amends or tell you a bunch of excuses as to why I thought I was doing the right thing, I just want the two of you to know that I've never been more ashamed in my entire life. Since the day you boys were born Mary and I promised each other that we'd always take care of you, no matter what, and I failed._

 _I fight monsters every single day but I never realized that I was becoming one, not until that night in the motel. I'm no better than the things we hunt, I know that now, and there's nothing I can do to fix that. I can't change what I did, but I can tell you that it was the worst mistake of my life. You boys mean everything to me and I turned on you. And that is unforgivable. I'm not asking you to give me another chance, I'm asking you to not let yourselves come out of this fight like I did._

 _A lot of boys want to grow up to be just like their dad, but I want you two to promise that you'll never be anything like me. Don't let this life change you like it did me. You boys are gonna be better men than I could've ever dreamed of being. I'm proud that I'm able to call you my sons, even if I no longer deserve the title of your father._

 _There will never be words to describe how sorry I am for what I did to you, and I deserve every bit of rage and hate that you have for me. There's no excuse to make up for what I did. I was your father. I was the man you were supposed to look up to, tot rust to keep you safe. In the end I'm the one who ended up hurting you the most and I will never forgive myself for that. I failed you, I failed Mary, I failed everyone I ever loved and I'll burn for that. I know this won't change anything but I can't live one more minute knowing that I caused you so much pain._

 _It's over boys, I'm sorry it had to end like this. I love you both._

 _-John Winchester_

A single tear drips down my face as I read the last words and I hastily wipe it away. The paper falls from my hands and drifts to the floor. I exhale and put my head in my hands, fighting back the wall of emotions that suddenly slams down on me. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I don't even have to look up to know that it's Sam but I refuse to meet his gaze.

"Dean." I don't respond and he sighs. "Dean talk to me." Finally I pick my head up.

"It was supposed to be over." My brother nods sadly.

"I know." It's quiet for a moment and I shake my head.

"For a while I wanted him gone. I thought that if he was dead I could move on, but now it just hurts worse." I glance at Sam. "After everything he did to me, I still wish we had found some way to put everything behind us. I wish that we could've gone back to the way things were, I wanted us to. Now Dad's dead and, the worst part is, I miss him. I miss the monster that beat me."

"Dean, what you're feeling..."

"I don't want to feel anything!" I yell as I jump up from my seat on the couch."I want to scream and curse and shout at the son of a bitch who did this to me. Who made me feel worthless, who gave me nightmares when he was supposed to make me feel safe. I want to be angry, or pissed, or happy that he bit the dust, but I can't. I can't." Suddenly it's like all my energy is gone and I sink to my knees. "I hated him Sam but It's like there's this hole in me now that he's gone, like something's missing. Like part of me died with him." My brother kneels down beside me.

"He was our dad. He was the one who was there for us when mom died. Dean we've spent almost our entires lives with nobody but each other and Dad. That kinda relationship just doesn't disappear, no matter how much we want it to." I sigh and lean against the couch next to him.

"Yeah I guess you're right." I scoff and turn to him. "I'm just tired of everybody leaving me. Mom, Dad..." Sam nudges me.

"Hey you've always got me, no matter what."

"Yeah. I guess I do." I smirk. "Even if that does mean being stuck with my geek brother." Sam rolls his eyes and slugs me in the shoulder.

"Bitch." He grins.

"Jerk."

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 _Well that's it for chapter 14! Actually that's it for the whole story. I had a great time writing this and I'm sad to see it come to an end, but all good things as they say. I want to thank everyone who stuck with me through this story, it means a lot. Even though this is the last chapter reviews are definitely still welcome and appreciated._


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